candles

i'm already wishing to come back and sleep
to lose myself in my cousin's music
and eat some mints
to pound away at the piano
and to not be concerned with deadlines
to pretend like it's winter
when cocoa and mittens are the only consolation i need
a welcome disguise in layers of scarves
a day where the muscles in my back relax
and i don't feel guilty about calories
with plenty of time to read

instead i stay waiting
for a day i'd rather avoid
unable to see the grace and mystery
most likely just unwilling

maybe just a day where bad poetry goes unnoticed
and it doesn't matter if it's not perfect
if it's real