💌

i feel like an empty pit. is a hole an object? is an absence a thing? i know i don’t feel like the ground around it, i know that i feel like the place where the dirt was. and now isn’t. this winter i made a snow angel for the first time. the snow has finally all melted. last thursday i was digging bricks out of the ground in the backyard to line the flowerbed. tearing up grass and moss, pulling and pulling, finally getting on my knees and pulling more, finally pulling the brick out. it left a perfectly rectangular impression. the dirt was surprisingly soft and smelled better than anything. i feel like something that was something else but isn’t anymore. i feel like i’m too late. my room feels like someone else’s. i remember lying in the snow in the dark and blinking at the snow falling on my glasses. i remember not feeling cold. i got up. it left an unfamiliar impression.