I’ve been feeling thin lately
or
thinning out, I’m not sure. Either way, it doesn’t hurt like I thought it would.
It seems I’m made of paper, been left in the rain, edges fraying, with each drop another tiny fragment of me gone.
The rain is cool and soft - pleasant - altogether not a bad day to be thin. Gentle, even though abrasive.
But how thin can one get before they’re gone completely, every last bit washed away in the downpour.
A supposition: pretty damn thin.
I’ve thinned enough already, I don’t know how much more can be shaved off, how much more has to fall away for me to fit back into the spaces I used to call home
or
the ones that felt like it.

So it goes - thinner and thinner all the time. Fading away into the darker places of the world. Shreds of me floating willy-nilly off into the night.
One day, some day soon (maybe) I’ll be gossamer, just enough of me left to catch the light outside your bedroom window.