It’s time
She walks in the room and I’m hanging out
Books line the wall but I’m just sitting here
I’m looking almost right at her, and she looks at me too..
but there seems to be something in between.
Stressed, pale and white like me
but there’s something different…
She’s not still. I want to help her.
She turns her eyes and I count for her,
1, 2, 3, 4, one, two, three, four
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6
She counts with me, but sometimes she doesn’t.
Sometimes she looks in the mirror while she does it and I think
It comforts her
And while I might not always know, 

I know she’s trying and breathing when she can.
She’s beautiful.
I hold it all for her when she can’t and I count till she’s back
1, 2, 3, 4, one, two, three, four,
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

It’s time
It’s sitting there like a fly on the wall, the sheet
Waving back and forth– like a friend from far away
A certain nervousness in my stomach, one I really think has been fabricated through words from unaligned energies and pictures in places I didn’t mean to look at
I do listen, funny enough, but not when it’s staring me down like it is now,
Though I do try, and so, it’s there
Waiting for me to enter this blue room and hold it so – reading the words
and repeating them in my mind.
Counting, 1,2,3,4, hold, one, two three, four,
exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6