You are tired. So walk. Here, take this shell. Here, take and push. Push please your thumb into the round part of this shell. It will not break. Don’t worry;
It will never say It’s Not OK
When it had promised It’s OK.
Push please very hard and gentle. Push please all the bad, slowly while you walk. Push please the way you hate her sometimes and how you hate sometimes the sound of his feet and the shape of his lungs and push please all the bad out, slowly while you walk.
It is raining too much. This is every reason to walk. Slowly while you push.
The water on your face could be tears. It would be OK if it were tears.
Don’t look in the windows of the room where he shed your blood because you asked him to. Push please.
Don’t look at the house where (look). Don’t look at the sidewalk where (look, push). Please push please.
It would be OK if it were tears.
Walk because you are tired. Walk because you are thirsty. Walk to hear your mother’s voice saying You’re Very Young But I Was Too. Walk to see if when you are tired you keep walking.
It would be OK if it were tears. It is OK that it is not.
Find that you have forgotten to push. This is OK too. Because the rain is painted pink and unreal and maybe this is the prize for all your searching. And maybe you can feel more able to be kind, and to walk when you are tired.
To bury your mouth in wet lilacs.
To wash your face in painted water.
It is OK if sometimes it is tears.