its lifting
the fog
that settles on my shoulders
that presses against my hair
that hangs heavy as curtains
in my lungs when i remember
to breathe in and out
its still there
around the edges
but its lifting
it crept in one night
and never really left
a slow sad blanket
that wrapped me up
musty and dark
that smoke in a bar
it surrounded me
a cocoon of sorts
breaking me
inch by inch
until i started turning into
someone i didnt know
how horrifying a thing
to happen
to look in a mirror
and barely recognize
the soul beneath the skin
but its lifting
and one night
i made a decision
to start over
a clean break
and it thinned
breaths coming a little quicker
a littler longer
and deeper
and it thinned a little more
i regained some visibility
and now
its lifting
almost lifted
but lifting still
and i cant help but smile
the soul is rebounding
souls are resilient like that