I drove again
desolate, except for
Thedford,
lost alone inside my head.
wandered in the Sandhills
life: simpler; traditional.
not one wolf
maybe he lived beyond
the first crest of
rolling hills,
as smooth as curvy skin
from here, I think,
alone inside my head.
I like the shape of my breasts
as I look down due to insecurities
more than anything,
the way my favorite, blackest bra
holds them…
what I thought about while driving
alone inside my head.
yesterday, bent over my kitchen sink
crying and
wondering how I make life work,
I saw my long legs tucked into
my soft blue jeans
and thought
I adore my fuzzy slippers with these,
just me alone inside my head.
my reflection in the bathroom today,
concentrating on red curls,
specifically the one who chooses
to hang lower, looser than the rest,
she defies me,
I cheer for her
alone inside my head.