Archived: Waiting Room by Emily Young

Take a deep breath into my lungs
Holding onto the air’s chill with selfish intent,
Reluctant to let it go
Breathe out anyways.

Watch the trees sway
Realize in this moment they only exist for your perception
Understand they may have been meant for someone else’s.

People will come and leave.
Sometimes the leaving is better, braver.
The hurt will solidify into a stalactite of “What If?”

Sit there and wait for my turn.
Cheap plastic chair bearing the weight of my wanting.
The doctor isn’t coming for me.

Walking outside
I sit in the dirt and watch the ants crawl.
I am trying to heal.