Poetry by Taylor

And my room smells of alcohol again
And my room smells of me
Alone
And I really like it

There’s something comfortable about learning how to walk myself home
I’m learning how to stumble less

There’s something comforting about my responsibility only being myself

My rooms a mess
But in my defence there isn’t anywhere to hang anything and there aren’t any drawers

My room is new, but its mine and the sheets are bright white
And in the sunlight i wake up happy
I’m waking up to sunlight again
And staying in it