borders

these days i find my edges blurring, & they're soaking up the rest around me. it's sort of like bleeding & all they have to pump me full is foreign. somedays is columbian & somedays its peruvian & other days its european, but either way, it never was meant to be mine. 

as my veins empty & others fill i'm losing my me & becoming more them & all that's left is a small glass cube...& the cube's began its shrink, & it's whispering its threats to crack.

she gave me a stone and it rests on my chest and he made me a ring and it lives on my hand but still my borders fade. i want to have a shell that you can touch but not one that you can sink your hand through and twist my insides. they're meant to be mine and they're sick of being swirled.

days of the south, today they're heavy.