My mental state fluctuates
as often as my body weight.
Last week I woke up in a bed of rain
and a bloated stomach
full of empty pain.
I felt like I was
even though he was standing right next to me.
Tomorrow I know I’ll feel the warmth of the city air
holding my hand again,
and my hips won’t stick out in layers of fat
the way I thought they did.
I never really know if I actually physically change
or if it’s just these mindless circles
dictating my state.
Next week my eyes will be bright again,
I’ll find myself noticing the moss that grows between the cracks of the pavement:
even the most primitive life
finds its way to the light.
So I’ll draw a map with clumsy hands
and show myself where the light hides
behind the dark clouding my eyes.