there’s things… people, feelings.

i clawed my way out

blood-caked fingernails stark against porcelain hands

a body unfamiliar, skin bleached of scars like an afterthought

kicking and scratching on some primal instinct

silent save for the few strangled breaths

my sandpaper throat managed to choke out

so that by the time i was topside i had grown

accustomed to the sweet sensation of suffocation

aching for the burn in my lungs to dull the remaining flames

how deceitful, how conniving, my unforgiving, forgetful mind

i leapt from my own grave

only to spend the better part of a decade underground

once the phoenix, now the minotaur

raised from the ashes to be promptly self-cemented in a labyrinth

cloaked in memory foam and worn-down thread

objects of contentment disguised as comfort

pouring soil over my head

resealing my tomb with a smile etched on my face

it's hard to pinpoint the final nail in the coffin

be it the one that pierced my spine

or deflated my heart

but today i emerged, shedding the chrysalis

sunlight healing still-fresh wounds i had concealed in the shadows,

to find the rest of the world on the cusp of spring

and, if only for a moment, i nearly mistook the crisp air for autumn

how the trees appeared brown and bare before bursting into life

how closely rebirth can resemble death

oh, how conniving, indeed

i let the thought take root

that, perhaps, like the trees, i too could be reborn once more

finally,