give me warmth

it’s a new day,

but my limbs still feel heavy

just like my tear ducts

and puffy red eye bags.

i cannot be hungry;

my stomach is full of sorrow

that i swallowed gasping for breath

between sobs and

panic attacks.

the night must not be over

my mind is still haunted by the shadow

of last night's perturbation.

but here i am,

lying in bed,

listening to the toll of my alarm

beckon my sunken eyes from

the back of my skull.

how does one rise when

the gravity of the situation causes

the stars, the sun, the sky,

to collapse all on my twin bed frame?

but i must tell myself:

“don’t fret that the sky is falling/

why else do you think the sun rises each morning?”