I’m trying to imagine being you
and I can’t find a place inside for fun,
a room for play, a window with a view
horizon-wide and open to the sun.
Instead I see you crouch around your core,
a bulwark fencing elements of stress,
selecting rest and safety over more
accomplishing, but discontent no less.

I witness wider hips beneath a mind
grown narrower with every prudent pick.
You’re cautious, careful, sensitive and kind,
and weekly I have watched you, always sick
and ever tired, fat and furrowed: blue
despair. I think it’s time you noticed you.