sixty-four

this is the last thing i should be doing
all these thoughts just floating
so beautiful in melancholy
this poem will ruin everything.

i could vent about you,
or make some joke about how my life sucks
but this isn't funny anymore
even though everyone seems to still be laughing

alone
i feel so very alone
and i want to be, because i know you don't get it
you don't want to try to get it
i guess i don't want you to
i can't even be sad anymore without feeling guilty
because i know i could get over it
because i know you're thinking i'm overreacting

this is my fucking life
what else would i be doing about it?

sometimes i see myself floating through space
and there's nothing, nothing
just a vacuum
and the stars are so far away
they've turned cold
the earth sails away, behind me

that's what it feels like
me in this room, this city
and you and you and all of you
living your life and it's working
and everything here is falling apart

when i was a little girl
i had a favorite tree to climb
i remember it in every season
so strong and beautiful
it cradled me in its limbs
and when i finally reached the top,
there was a celebration for me
and the tree

when i moved away i carved a heart in it
anna + tree forever
and i think that's the only thing i've ever loved