Some Nights (Still)

burrs still sticking to my skin, I am trying
I am trying, I am trying
to move forward

some nights I still taste like
boxed wine and lamplight at 4 am
some nights I am still twelve months ago

some nights I am still wading
through the translucent gauze of nostalgia
peeling its layers from my shoulders
or pulling its blindfold from my eyes

and some nights I am still waiting
for the cracks in my ribs to stop scraping
against my lungs when I inhale
still holding my breath
and counting to ten
hoping the pain will have gone this time

I am barbed-wire tethered
but I am struggling against my own fences
because some mornings
there is a gray light dawning behind my eyes
and I am trying, I am trying

I am trying to pluck the sharp grass from my mouth
to fill it with cool water instead
or enough air to tell you

that I want to be more than just
a ledger of goodbyes and failed attempts
that I don't want to be last year anymore

some nights I want to taste
less cigarettes and more spearmint
less like the blood from my bitten tongue
and more like the way it is healing

some nights I am trying,
I am trying.