Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

When It’s January in April

I live in the past because it’s easier than trying to meet you here.
I will always love someone I shouldn’t.

I am cold brew on a Tuesday morning in January
when the waves of Lake Michigan are still, motionless islands of ice.
Floating but going nowhere,
I have never quite found my place.

He just likes what I look like naked.
But you always saw through everything.

I have been broken at the hands of others,
But I have also not been kind to myself.

I am purposefully unavailable,
desperately searching for those who are not in need.
Avoiding anyone who might actually want me.

The basketball court outside of the train window looks like a lake.
I wonder what it means to always imagine yourself as drowning.

Does the married man still have my number?
Does my ex-boyfriend ever think of me?

I drink my seven-dollar coffee alone, and I don’t feel lonely.

This is progress.

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Freelance Make-Up Artist & Teacher. Wig & Make-Up Designer. Freelance Writer. Coffee, dogs & pop-punk are my life. MFA student at Roosevelt University.

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Becky Curl

Becky Curl

Freelance Make-Up Artist & Teacher. Wig & Make-Up Designer. Freelance Writer. Coffee, dogs & pop-punk are my life. MFA student at Roosevelt University.