My reflection told me that she’d pray for me,
arms crossed and lips in a pout.
I used to hate her.
Now I just feel worn out,
a sputtering candle,
forgoing oxygen for something else.
I’m drifting now.
This is a strange ocean,
filling up the corners of my mind.
There’s nothing worse than wet insulation.
I tried do-it-yourself,
with a hairdryer and some glue.
But there’s no fixing
awash in a mess of blue.