"I Can't Change"

Open Your Eyes.
    They say daylight streams through windows,
    so I leave them open in hopes of a flood
It's morning but you can't move
    Your skin feels like it's stretched over cement
    And your legs threaten to disown the joints in your hips
    If you even think that moving is an option
The bedframe reaches like fences around the mattress, your mattress
    Such that you are reminded of your crib
    of the buttercream walls you forfeited long ago
    in favor of a peony pink and then, currently, a cold grey.

You aren't little anymore.
You can't hide behind your mother's knees,
Praying to a child's god for things to be different
    for the girl you want to want you back
    for the divinity you were taught through nursery rhymes in Church basements
        to believe your struggle
        and accept your apology
Because this inclination, this uncontrollable light
Pulling me into a white-hot blinding bliss
    May feel wrong at first
    But I swear, it means everything in the end.

And I only hope that when you close your eyes,
You will remember how you feel right now
And how strange that will be in comparison to when you'll feel whole
        and you will.