turned a summersault;
I fell out of her pocket
and landed in a new one.
Just breathe, I remind myself, and I am finding I need the reminder. When I add it all up and look at the total, I think there must be some mistake. But when I rework the equation, the outcome stays the same. Too numb to cry, I focus on surviving: penniless, homeless, hopeless, I keep going the only way I can, and I'm not sure whether it's up or down.
I know it's cryptic, but it's all that I can manage. I need to be strong at least until I know I'm safe.
It's funny how everything you know can change in a matter of minutes.
Not the kind of funny you laugh at, of course.
More like if I don't keep smiling, it will kill me.
Maybe tomorrow I'll find my way home.
Maybe tomorrow I will grieve.