November 30

"I'm not who I used to be,"
For the first time, this thought doesn't scare me.
Hanging upside down with my head off the bed,
matted, unbrushed hair masked by a headband
swinging like thousands of strand like pendulums.

Composition notebooks, uncapped pens,
received letters, sprawled in a circle surrounding me.
Sitting indian style, I engross myself in writing to
some of my dearest friends, speaking of school,
holidays, and hopefulness.

I've never been so curious and so self-assured.
I'm happy just trying,
even if goals simply remain just that.


You can trust me with secrets.

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