sometimes the shape of my dreams are so sharp i apply my day like a gold-star reward. that i followed my rules. i’m proud and accomplished. and my day lives inside of the shape, abiding by the ridges and trimming the sides with my steps so clean. i’m confident. unafraid.
i’ve milked my dream through and in | to the strength of my height.
and i know it’s just a feeling. something (mis)guided. told what to do.
but this feeling just rains down, during a hot summer day, cleaning me fresh.
and i’m born into myself again. forgetting where i was before. the proudest me.