Repetitions of clicks and taps
the snapping of my back
Is it winter, or is it me?
Would I notice if I felt different
come summer, or spring?
Should I measure loneliness
by the curve in my spine,
Where my weight weighs me down,
my posture slides
and my eyes no longer shine?
Snow moves like tired stars in the wind
The aching of my bones
The cracks in my skin
Will I notice if I feel different
When the seasons change again?
When will it be June?
Is it April here
Did I miss May?
Whats my deadline for joy
how long should I wait?
Murmurs and hums
Machines spitting their utility upon the floor
The creaks and relief
when a door closes
The fear when it opens again
Is it winter? Or is it me?
Would I even notice
Hot coffee felt through worn gloves
and burnt tongue
The air outside smells clean
but its only hiding the filth beneath
Will I notice if I feel the same
Come summer or spring?