Cream bedsheets stained with tears
and mascara. Wrinkled pillowcases
a stand-by tissue. Salt absorbing into
the linen, re-absorbing into my cheeks.
I miss the blanket of salt
covering every inch of my face and neck.
The sensation of my burning eyes,
the struggle of the silent sob.
The pain that started in
my chemically imbalanced brain, retreating
to my heart, dissipating
in my chest.
My brain a rebellion,
my eyelids a tank.
My sockets beginning to rust,
my mother’s embrace.
