The blue light from my laptop spills on the wall
Turns my head into quiet shadows
A siren bends somewhere behind the rain
Like it can't decide where to go
My phone keeps sliding up the edge of the table
Tiny earthquakes I don't answer I
draw a small circle on the fog glass
And stare through it
on purpose Everything wants a piece of me
But I only have one place to stay
I'm learning how to focus Not like closing the world outside
More like choosing what gets to stay Holding
one clear frame in the middle of the noise
Until my hands stop shaking It isn't discipline,
it's mercy for my mind
The train slows down between two stations
Fluorescent lights breathing overhead
A woman across the aisle fixes her mascara
Like it's something she can still control
I used to call distraction,
being open Call exhaustion,
keeping up
Tonight I let the blur pass through
me Like scenery I don't need to own
There's a thin line between attention and
fear And I've been standing on it for years
I'm learning how to focus On the sound of my own name in my head
On one honest thought that doesn't rush the ending
That doesn't need to be fed
It isn't silence,
it's choosing what finally gets my breath
I thought clarity would feel sharp and clean Like a sudden open door
But it feels more like setting down Everything I was carrying for
Something I never asked for No fireworks,
no perfect alignment
Just the courage to narrow the view And trust the small light
I keep coming back to I'm learning how to focus
When my room keeps asking me to fracture
Holding my center while the rest keeps moving
Without calling it disaster It isn't control
It's choosing what you want
And letting it matter
I close my roping tab
Leave the window open
And stay with the quiet Long enough to see