The blue-gray light of winter
smooths across my skin as I sit
here beneath this window
vacant as I’ve ever been
hollow like a Sunday afternoon
dead as the solitary leaf
that trembles politely in a
lethargic-however sudden-burst
of air.
It waits for an exit
anticipating freedom
praying for the wind
to coil up and pounce.
I feel empathy
then great sadness.
Time moves in lines and spaces
all around me.
I am boxed in,
confined.
I am half dressed
yet wearing shoes.
I am void of depth
and drowning in it.
I cling unwavering to a thought
that leaves me like an artful lover.
The door slams shut.
My mind empties and flattens
and squishes between your toes.
You dig deeper and I am liquefied.
Suck me up and spit me out.
I am easily recycled.