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.