are you okay?

exhaustion sits upon my skin like a wet blanket –

heavy yet discomforting

twisting my stomach into shapes and

churning out nausea,

the kind of nausea that feels like heartbreak –

not break, all shatter

the kind of twisting that feels like spirals –

black holes and hurricanes

the kind of exhaustion that feels like

this –

I swear I’m not tired.

“Aren’t you tired?”

My eyes flutter,

your lips twinge,

and you frame the question

so pointedly on your lips –


“Aren’t you tired?”


– you organize my

late nights and

echoing laughs

into the collection of the


but you are mistaken.


I am tired,

I am tired

of the vacancies

I carry,


I am tired

of the loneliness in that

closed off room,


I am tired

of my mind when

I’m alone,


I am far

too tired

to sleep.