Writing

my anxious heart,

it haunts me when i finally decide to nod off,

whilst my anxious mind whispers old and embarrassing events,

and eventually i am wide awake again,

bug eyed,

and holding the covers above my head.

Remember your past

For it makes you

Who you are.

Remember to ask yourself

Who are you?

Remember the good times

But also keep the bad.

Remember to keep your values

Our friendship started with a story,

Really:

When we cradled our violins

And swept our bows through the air,

Giggling as we peeked into the holes

The air is thick with heat, 

Making me feel as if I’m drowning.

I keep walking, for the fear of going back propels me,

All along the ticking surface

All the sand along the edge

All deep down in long dry throats:

Fingers press.

Hands Press.

All from loose and baggy skin

Round half-lucid teary minds

Being a Vermonter is spending six months of the year wearing a jacket.

Being a Vermonter is running outside in nothing but leggings and a sweater, thinking it’s springtime when it hits 47 degrees.