sometimes
I stay up when I should sleep, and
sleep when I should be awake
sometimes
I talk when I should listen, and
remain silent when I should speak
sometimes
I want to be still for days,
wrapped in quiet.

then sometimes
I remember you, and
the way you used to be, and
the way I used to be.
sometimes, I hold my used-to-be-self
in cupped hands, and
then place her gently down,
and go back to living.