humid: A Poem


large-1humid is the color of the sky
at dusk when there are no clouds
and everything is purple-orange
and awash with incredibly, vastly
blank

humid is the breath you can’t know
swimming at the small of your mouth
and it’s warm, and it’s quiet,
and it makes you cry

humid is the instrumental rolling like
raindrops across tinted windows
and it wears your soul away
into vallies and canyons
over centuries, millenia

humid is the moment when you realize
that you only live the way you do
because of the people that
they killed

they killed people

they killed people

humid is when you realize
you may never embody yourself

and when you wonder if there is a self
to embody.