izz_midnight

I sit in the corner, listening to the conversation,

started like it was just breathing to them,

I want that, but my heart doesn’t yearn as much,

or maybe it yearns infinitely more.

I sit in the corner, cradling a book, 

or laptop, or phone, or nothing at all,

I sit in the corner listening to the hum of chatter,

I focus on different voices,

I don’t care,

I’m failing all my classes, my life

I have tasks to do,

two of them, three, four, I’m buried

The weight is crushing me,

The pristine white sheet burns into my eyes,

blank, like the thoughts in my head,

It’s daunting, mocking, empty.

I want to be able to do something, anything,

It begins —

This thing call Spring —

With sunshine and birdsong

Slowly infused into everything.

It begins with

Deep brown rivers gauged in viscous dirt roads,

As the frozen ground thaws and overflows.

I painted my nails blue

because I couldn’t think what else to do 

to stop myself from thinking of you.

I didn’t realize until they dried,

it was the very color of your eyes: