there's many steps
today i woke up early in the morning, before the sun was peaking over the mountains with her warm rays. i sat in the bathroom for awhile, contemplating if they were happier with or without me.
i washed myself
and washed and washed
until i couldn't bear the heat any longer, and rinsed with cold
covered in a towel that used to be my mom's, i open the blinds to the dusty lightening blue sky. i turn off my lava lamp and turn on my music quietly-
-slipping into a light sheer robe i walk around the apartment to open the windows to the sun and birds
starting up a small pot of tea (ginger, cranberries, orange, black)
i read my poetry book and smoke as i wait, and once it's done seeping i sip and sing quietly to the words of someone with far more experience than me, preparing to pray (and talked a little, to you)
i turn down the music to listen to someone playing their guitar in the room over, to write this over and over and over on pages i keep forgetting to use
so many steps, just a few moments in peace and hopeful choirs
