The Little Things

I rise and there’s still dark behind my eyes

“I’ll wash it out,” I think

Awake but vacant, I recall the steps

I know I’m supposed to take

I drop the teabag in its boiling bath

And quickly slip away

Returning to the little cave I made

To carry out my days

The tea lies cooling on the countertop

And cooling turns to cold

Yet one more attempt at textbook self-care

Evaporates away

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i relate to this...i am not a person of supposed to's....
and my self-care is as random as a horror novel with twists and turns.

but by the end of the book, i am still kicking..
the dark behind my eyes seems to remain constant lately...
i need a flashlight...
really like this poem...
j.