By Bavinika Sivakumar
Lukewarm water, weary eyes,
One fourteen a.m., Gemini moon night.
Flickering cursor, blanking mind,
Drained to a dime, no, not this time.
Channel power, a watt each fiber,
Drained some more, yet a silent roar.
Cold tile floor, yes, I know I swore,
A few days more, silent tears touch shore.
One twenty-two a.m., Thursday morning.
Just as before, drained to my core.
Maybe kindness would help, but they just ignore.
One twenty-seven a.m., wet t-shirt sleeve.
I’m just a young woman, relearning to breathe.
One thirty a.m., goodnight, solemn