some of us merge

and some of us melt

but some of us coil. 

​

we twist and we turn, and we tend to go missing

we often lose parts of ourselves

like socks in a dryer

​

but there are no perfect matches

nothing to go along with us

nothing to compliment our sharp breathes

and slow blinks

burned through our eyelids

with pupils made of acid, we feel fire

​

catching glimpses of the odds

lined up against us

time to get acclimated to the ones that surround us

the ones that merge, and the ones that melt