A Reflection on Your Mental Health

Shae really liked this poem and Lexi said that it was bearable, so I copied and pasted it from a word document and posted it here. On Friday, I got the letter that I wrote to myself last May and I don't really know what to make of it. Anyway, here's a thing.


In my memory
you were sitting
in a black, rolling desk chair
I had my knees
pressed to the front of the seat
But in truth
I probably wasn’t
that close

It was cold out
but warm in the room

You were looking up at me
I like to imagine
that you had
your hands on my hips
or
your fingers looped in my belt loops
but
you probably didn’t

The conversation
had become
burning embers
The sun
had been setting
since noon
and had just reached
the crest of the horizon
It was a burning orange-yellow
which sounds cliché
but only because it was

I don’t remember
breathing
for fear that I might startle you
into looking away
as you often did

I watched your eyes
and thought,
Wow.

The sun
set in a way that a beam
shone through the window
and onto my face
I felt warm
despite my goose bumps

You looked at the sun
shining on my face and
through the space between us
and
just said,

“Wow.”

"Push your lack of chest out

Look at my hair

Girl, I love the way you love yourself

your obsession with rocks and brown

and fucking the whole town's

a reflection on your mental health"