Second-best

I tried to pull the sun through the curtains

the warmth remained behind dirtied windows

and all that brushed my face

were second hand

shadows.

limbs lay limp under the sweaty duvet

my eyes grew weary from the phone screen

being left on blue by my mother

and struggling to find the words

that could match the magnetic pull

my chest had to the floor.

a dread to don clothes

that circle my thighs and remind me

of my disdainful hungry belly.

I could feel it hang against the mattress,

its tissue paper texture I wished

was taut.

the day began around me

runners outside pacing past

and cars reversing out of driveways.

ten hours of sleep

ten months of silence

ten years of sorrow.

my nose fought against the heavy air

and my chest rose

with nothing better to do.

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