Thursday in May

Today I want to drink orange juice and dance to indie folk music.

I want to drive with every window down screaming. I need the rain to come, I need fifteen minutes to close my eyes and breathe and tell myself everything will be fine.

I would like a whole grapefruit and a deep stretch. I feel like wearing a lot of jewelry and dark lipstick. I want to diffuse lemongrass and eucalyptus while I fold my laundry.

I need to read articles and make lunch, feed my brain and my body. I want to tell my mom that I love her. I want to have a cigarette under the moon and then, I want a long, deep sleep.

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Things that keep me from sleeping

I wonder if you ever noticed that I chew on my toothbrush until the bristles stick out sideways. Or if you ever saw me drooling while I was sleeping.

I wonder if you remember the day I took those pills and didn’t answer my phone and you were so worried. Or the time my anxiety was out of control in Trader Joe’s and I hadn’t taken my Lexapro and you had to talk me off my ledge.

I wonder if you remember the way my hair smells or the way I clean countertops or the way my legs feel tangled with yours.

I can’t wait to see you.

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