my soft lullaby.

right now doesn’t feel okay
i’m not sure what to do
but before it goes to that place 
that i know it can go
where nothing is there and everything has died
for now
i will sing myself the softest lullaby

an invisible one 
it’s barely there
but it’s playing deep inside
it’s coming from my chest
and blossoming outward
like the green vines spreading
across an old, broken wall
making it all whole
and growing all tall

it’s blossoming
from my chest
to my arms and my legs
to my fingertips and my toes
it blossoms in my lungs
and is breathed in my breath
it soaks through my skin
and like morning dew
it collects

though with time
the singing may quiet
and my skin may dry
for now
i’m singing the softest lullaby
    
    —and it’s keeping me awake