Displacement
Everything aches. Like an animal made for snow, left blinking in a sunlit field, burning in a heat it wasnβt born to bear.
I lie curled in a skin that feels tight where it pulls across my bones, in a landscape that feels made for someone else.
I try to recall if Iβve ever really known what belonging felt like.
Sometimes I let myself hope thereβs a corner of the world where I might finally fitβ a place quiet enough to remind me what safety feels like.
Other days, I start to wonder if thereβs anything left in me worth saving.
For now, Iβm left here aching, clinging to the fantasy that something, or someone, could someday come and wrap around me like shelter.
That there might be something to make this skin feel less like something I am only ever meant to endure.
