I spent all of last week with a Popsicle between my lips.
I guess I thought that somehow,
the sickly sweet treat would be able to mask the bitterness in my throat-
All it did was make it sticky,
with a slightly nostalgic edge.
Maybe it’s time I stop expecting endless possibilities to be delivered in icy cold sugar sticks, or on the backs of butterflies that land on my thumbs.
Because no matter how many times we link antenna to finger, pinky swearing that through fate and flight we’ll always have reasons to care,
there will still be days where
no matter how hard I try,
my ass will simply not leave my bed.
See, I am still trying to learn the language that my own body speaks;
and sometimes we disagree on definitions.
On days like this,
I will remember the wind, created
by the wings of my butterflies.
I will leave it to seep into my lungs, breathing poetry into my brain.
I will take comfort in the fact that billions of organisms are currently growing,
And no matter how sad I feel
they will not cease to push towards the sky.
I will look at the cactus across my room, and notice how even within the confinement of a tiny, plastic pot
it finds a way to grow.
I will listen when it whispers to me
“It’s okay, it’s alright. We’re alive.”