i know

i left a water glass on the counter. i pictured it falling. i should have put it away i know i should have put it away, but it was late and i was getting ready to go to bed and i straight up did not want to. do you ever have a premonition you’re going to lose something before it actually happens? i thought it was safe to leave out. i always do.

something else fell, tension no longer holding it in place. it bounced and the glass broke, but barely. i mourned the jagged lip and buried it in a plastic shroud. i hate coming upon consequences i was previously unaware of. over the years, i’ve settled into my identity like a cozy armchair, but the trouble with knowing yourself is that the aspects of yourself you want to work on can grate like sandpaper. i want to melt butter over all my bad days.

i know the light of all of the hours of night on sight, even as they shift with the seasons. i’ve seen them in all their damp, dim glory. i’ve spent more time with them than anyone else, chasing sleep like a phantom headlight. there are so many places to hide in the dark, but don’t worry: i know all of your fault lines by heart, too.