I try to find my “inner self,” my “center”
(feeling knowledgeable because I read about it –
some hippie article online)
So – I close my eyes. Breathe, they said to breathe,
listen to your heartbeat.
I can’t find it.
and then I realize – I left my heart at home,
under a pile of dirty laundry, sandwiched between
a pair of sweatpants and last night’s heels.
They hurt my feet, I remember,
a large part of my plastic smile.
Ok, gotta move on without the heart.
Think about your safe space – my mind
instantly tries to say, “Home, where I grew up.”
and I stop, and answer,
Home is…home is my own space? Yes, my new apartment –
Mind interrupts again, “You’re not trying hard enough.