Oct
19
waking up in a strange place
I surveyed the room
blinking
for fifteen years my bed was hers
but now I slept in my
brother’s basement bedroom
feet protruding cold from the
end of the short blanket
for fifteen years I had lived
with an illusion of purpose
a pale subterfuge,
a bad knockoff life
cold bed traded for cold feet
my cardboard cutout purpose
traded for possibility
something real
