There is this one recurring nightmare
that i used to call a dream
because I wasn’t sure whether to be terrified of it
or accepting, as I have learned to be with
this
and it g-

i wake up. / i think i do. / things are all so empty. / already i know what will happen / because my dorm is never this empty or neat. / and already i can feel the weight of the silence on the back of my neck, heavy hands that are heavy shackles, twisting around my collar / desperate

i wake up. / i know i do not. / things are familiarly devoid / because there is one focus now: / my shirt, which is tight. the sheets, which are soft. my hair, which is shorter than i remember. my b

the door opens and there is a person / he is limitless he is careful he is anything but terrifying / and

i wake up. / i do. / i take a deep breath and i shove it way way down. / i get up. / steady. / i go open the door. / the creak is loud. / there are birds outside, there are birds outside, people are snoring and it’s full again. i open the door. / i open the door.

no one is there.

and i think,

I’ve gotten over you.
I’m pretending.

and it happens
again and again

and I think

I might be going insane
in the best way possible.