The laundromat light flickers through the glass
Spent silver on wet pavement
My sweater smells like soap and cold air
Like I bought a cleaner version of myself
A menthol shirt with careful corners
Each sleeve lined up like a promise
I watch the clock lose another minute
Without telling me what it changed
I keep waiting for the shift to an hour I won't see itself
But it moves like bread
Maybe this is just a phase I'm walking through
Not a breakdown,
just a softer turn Everything I thought
I had to carry is getting lighter
To return,
it's not ending It's the space between who I was
And what I can't learn And what I can't learn
My phone lights up and goes dark
again No name worth interrupting this
A train's high somewhere out under
the street
Pulling the city forward
I used to rush every in-between
moment Like stillness meant I was late
Now I sit inside the half-finished
feeling Watching it rearrange my pace
There's a quiet courage in our labeling
What's still alive
Maybe this is just a phase I'm growing in Not a failure,
just a change of tone
I don't need a clearer direction yet It's something I can stand on
I thought becoming was a loud decision
A single night that cut me free
But it feels more like forgiving the
time And I kept fighting inside of me
No sudden courage,
no perfect sign Just trusting the slow repair
Like learning that the pause I feared Was already doing
its work
Maybe this is just a phase I'm learning
to keep Instead of trying to outrun
Letting the quiet rewrite my edges Into something soft and strong
It's not finished It's the part where I finally stay
The dryer clicks off
I leave one sock warm in my hand
And I'm walking to the street
Exactly where I am