work of art

Spare wet curls on the back of your neck

Is it your sweat or my tears

Stuck in the same conversation

Almost going on three years

In the distance I can see what's right in front of me, two places at once

Sanity feels a little scary when I see myself from above

I can't feel like I used to, forgive me

I'm struggling a little without

Human contact is still a necessity

And I'm a dictator of self-doubt

Hard landings on the air strip, no rip to band-aids still on my arm