Prayer Closet

I just went to my closet for pajamas,
Dang it,
Stepping over dirty laundry dogs
Breathing in the dark. I reach for a purple sweatshirt,
Foot breaking on a box of crafts.
Dang it.

Even in the dark
My day clouds the room like smoke,
Crowds heavy and sticky into my chest.

I think I hate horror films because
This world and my mind are already a cinema of terror and madness.

I fold the sweatshirt to my chest and exhale.

“I love every fragment of you, just as it is. Every broken frame of mind…I stare it in the face, still fascinated.
Still proud.

I know every heart sliver and lethal thought that ever was.
I grieve the death and madness.
I have worn it in my skin, too.”

I tuck my face into royal folds,
Shoulder slumping against pimpled white wall,
And I drip down it to closet floor,
Tears pooling and face falling
Into dirt speckled carpet and sweaty clothes.
I inhale.

One thought on “Prayer Closet

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