counting knots in the wood slats-
the ones i can feel my nonexistent breath bounce off against
the ones holding up the musty mattress that does not get granted a body for most of the year
i lay cold with the carcasses of beatles
have i been forgotten about?
the dryer is empty
there aren't any ears to welcome the applause of the rain on the metal roof
so it doesn't make a sound
night time is dark and so is the day
when the air grows warm and damp i finally see feet
i am awake to witness
that the old mattress is relieved to be slept on
the dryer boasts loud about its excitement of zippers
and the proud rain once more is heard
but what about me?
i have never made a sound through my cloth face
im dying to yell to tell them i want to be seen
because i can't remember the last time i was held by a child
but i don't yell
and they don't see me
the air is growing dry
everything is packed away
i'm alone again
and for the very first time i breathe
it has taken me an eternity to realize
i am the one who's tucked myself away here
i forgot about me.
always wondering when summer comes
if it will finally be the summer i acknowledge me.