I climbed a mountain
and broke in half
all in the course of a weekend.
I’ve locked myself in the bathroom
cold tile, gray walls
and I’m nit-picking at my problems
like I do with my obsessions
hair falling out.
You came crashing like a wave
slamming my body on the rough sand
my nose and mouth are filled with salt
but my eyes are clear
clear as a foggy mirror can be
so I wipe the dew from the bathroom mirror
I turn the knob of the bathroom door
waves keep crashing.
Freedom is in my nose,
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.