Want What It Wants..!

Every night, I allow myself fantastic indulgences. 
I am everything I want to be.
I have everything I want.
I tell myself that tomorrow,
I will not fight the world as it is.
I tell myself I will surrender.
I will let go.
That tomorrow always comes
and I am unable to surrender.
I am unable to stop fighting.
It’s not too late.

Last night, I slept on clean sheets.
It was the first time I had changed
them since nearly two weeks ago.
The previous sheets were purple
and I never wanted to change them.
I was trying to hold a memory,
the silhouette of something.

There is a satisfaction to sliding
into fresh sheets. Last night,
my sheets were cool against my skin, soft.
There is no purpose in sharing this detail save
that it was a lovely sensation
and there is a melancholy in knowing
my skin won’t feel that same thing again.
The skin wants what it wants.

I have a cold and as the illness winnows
its way out of my body,
I have been beset by a cough rendering
my abdominal and lower back muscles  sore, tender.
Now, I wince when I cough.
I try to hold the halted air in my chest
to avoid the discomfort and then when I do cough,
it is hard, dry, painful.

The body is such a terribly fragile, gorgeous thing.

The world was so ugly today
and I suppose it is every day so maybe today
it just hurt a little more to see that ugliness.

But there is a solace from
that ugliness—receiving a long letter,
listening to a beautiful song,
still points, the turning world.

Words are what I have. For now.
This week, I have written out my frustrations
and my want, plainly, all of it.
This truth is so passionate and naked
that when I look over the words,
my cheeks warm but I am not ashamed.
I am not even afraid though I thought I would be.

This want; this is what I want.

Every morning, I try to break my heart.
I crush it gently between my fingers until it
can fit in the palm of my hand.