The drive home is glassy eyed and redundant. I no longer trip over the algorithmic potholes In this town, I spend so many miles just trying to get lost though I remember what it feels like, I know the warmth of a house key jagged in my pocket. I know how to pick locks with a bobby pin and break in bathroom windows Until someone shows me a better way
Baby, I’m as frail as ever.
My stomach turns every second. You never flip me over or fish me out of my thoughts like spiderwebs Your absence swarms around me, Preying on me Baby, my fears are materializing before me. I’m stuck in a hypnotic trance of routine My friends are incubated into experience while I watch. I’m surrounded by people who aren’t afraid of leaving Who aren’t afraid of falling apart I take calculated risks and no longer trip over the potholes
Baby, you’re farther than ever.
The things I’ve muttered tumble out of me once more, I want to come with you. Please don’t make me ask again.
Billie Lane (they/them) is a writer, artist and cosmetologist from the Lehigh Valley area of PA. They are currently a student at NACC where they study Business Administration. Their poetry has also been published in Rag Queen Periodical.