Lately, I’m so wound up,

I greet people I actually like by squeezing the bridge of my nose

And with a tense feeling in my diaphragm.

I growl my words sometimes.

I struggle to make it dissipate because I can’t relax.


When I have the space to shake to the top,

I can let it go and be free again,

But the feeling only comes if I’m already relaxed or if the opportunist in me finds myself in an empty house.


I always think of you these days,

My hands become yours,

My mouth swells in anticipation for something that never comes,

Although I do.



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