the complete relief of
everything finally being
clean
pure
white.

spaces to start over &
mess it all around
again,
but this time i know,
so the fault should
hold
some sort of
grace.

the line where i've hung up all my dreams to dry overnight ((overyears)), from all the tears & the illusion of pain, it folds under the weight of everything i plan & makes a sculpture of broken imagery. i pull down all the curtains in hope for some sort of light but it's been there, overhead for all this time.

she wants to clean her room,
she wants to walk her way to the shore,
she wants to sleep & find that
everything
at last
is somewhere
in reach.