Lately I’ve been counting floor tiles and rearranging the empty plastic bottles on my desk

My bed is never made

My coat is never worn

and my sweatshirts hang like melting snow clinging to barren trees

I am never quite here

never in the present at least

Like the stranger wavering in the doorway I can’t really bring myself to move

Inside I am unwelcome

outside I am alone

I am never quite still

never steady

My hands are pebbles tapping at the glass window

waiting

waiting

I am never quite sure where I stand

by the door or by the window or somewhere in between

I can’t seem to recognize the stranger outside the window

or if I should give them shelter from the storm

See how I can’t let anyone through the door

not even the person who looks like me

Look at the way I count the tiles and rearrange the bottles

without ever really entering the room

Hear that figure whispering to me that she will wait for as long as it takes

Feel the way my hands flutter like quivering leaves

Listen to my heart pulsing like trapped fireflies against a glass jar

how they glow brighter with every beat

Wait

for me to give in to their hauntings

to recognize this confusing weather beaten labyrinth as my mind

How it never knows how to stop counting tiles and throwing pebbles

even/especially when it enters the room.