Streetlight Lullabies

your eyes, beautiful
like a sad sky of snow stars
immerse my soul.

just a haiku.

xxxxxxxxx


I was up until 4:30 this morning, finishing The Catcher In The Rye for school.
And I did it with windows open and blueberry candles burning.
Fresh from a bubble bath, I was awash in summer, for the very first time this year.
Even though I feel so much like tangled electrical currents,
last night I felt like I could breathe easy for awhile.
Meditation, yeah?
My mind is ablaze with no outlet and I keep struggling to find this voice
the voice that’s just…trapped inside of me some days.
And I wish I had more beautiful people to surround myself with.
I’m coming up empty-handed,
and my heart feels soggy and empty.
I wish I weren’t so redundant.
I wish the things I say so shakily made the least bit of sense.

I wish I were in some beautiful cabin, deep in the woods,
right by some meadow filled with marigolds and roses and wildflowers of every possible color.
Where there’s a lake reflecting the rushing sky,
mirroring some thoughts locked away deep inside my soul.
Where I can hang white legs off the pier,
dip my toes in warm water.
I wish I could surround myself with nature and take a vacation for awhile.
A vacation from being a daughter, a girlfriend, a sister, a "good friend", a coworker, a senior in high school.
I feel like I don’t even know myself,
and right now, I feel so desperate to figure that out.
To at least obtain some unknown piece of myself,
and hold that "shard" right in my palm,
and open my eyes.
I am told I am making progress,
but I think I feel emptier than ever.
Maybe that’s part of the healing, the knowing, the fixing.
Maybe.
But what if it isn’t?

Being a financial burden isn’t my idea of living out the few months left of my youth.
I guess I have no choice.
And though I have finally told those who are breaking me how much damage they are doing,
sometimes I feel like it isn’t enough, that it never will be enough.
Sometimes all I can taste is metallic futility,
and my own pathetic sorrow that follows me like that storybook gray cloud.
I wish I had the option to forget everything,
and go backpacking through Europe or something equally as spontaneous.
Responsibility is a double-edged sword, as they say.

And so, I suppose, is even dreaming in the first place.
Quietly, now.

xxxxxxxxxxx

-akm.