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Yolk.
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I watched you sleep last night, the sound of your breathing warding off the hysterical silence of night. Forgive me. Forgive me for being so young. For being this messy fool who is falling completely apart. I’m trying to pull it together. Myself. Our life. I don’t ever want you to feel this sickening sense that the ground has entirely melted away. That nothing is solid. The world is a hollow egg. I push my thumb in and it gives way, delicate lacy cracks. I want to build a nest for you. A cradle. A home. How do I do that? I’m frozen and blank. Forgive me.
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