one way mirror with no one on either end

with my face buried in the fabric, i can see your mom in the kitchen and your dogs in the hall way. if i was a sommelier i'd say it starts with this soy wax and perfume freshness, that melts into a dark musky base. i keep huffing it because i know i will never smell it again.

alone, i stand there huffing. i did this in my bedroom and now in my dorm room. i let my entire face be buried in the fabric. i know the scent will soon leave me and it's not because i want to smell you it's just because i want to savor it before it leaves forever. maybe the novelty of the smell itself. this strange privilege i'm still clinging onto. each time i had this perversion about how beautiful i must look there. how sweet and sappy and big my heart is. how eloquent i can describe the way i smush my fingers through the limp folds that smother my shut eyes and tight lips. not even smelling the cloth, entirely breathing it in. 

i don't know if i have much going for me. i'm unpacking my suitcases, and sure i have a lot of cool stuff, but that's about it. how many more audience members can this world take? all my body wants to do is lie in the soft nest of my bed. keep digging into the corners, burrowing into the drywall until i have found myself in the dirt. not digging, just wiggling and wrestling deeper. my goose down trailing behind me, eyes closed in sleep and blind like a mole, pushing into the soft thick security of earth, so that all thats left behind me is tunneling, and my striped socks peeking out of the rubble. 

i will publish this and lie on my back on the floor. my roommate came in earlier and pointed to the bed and said "i had sex here before" and among the hundreds of passing excited feet that lie under me like history, i will pull up a guided youtube work out video and throw my body to an empty voice that teaches me how to get better. and soon the color will fill my cheeks, i'll pour love with a heavy hand, and wonder how any body in their life could even like be sad ever.

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