Walking in Circles

I pace around my small section repeatedly so, that my feet know where to go.

They ache with an ease from yesterdays paces, unafraid yet tiresome and strained from the same.

The same is what it is, the days adrift, the bustle and silence is all one.

Words become slurred and my eyes seem to blur the faces that pass, to have come and gone.

I want to be on the other side I say.

The other side of this counter.

Where my skin doesn’t itch from coffee grit and my shoes aren’t saturated with milk.

My eyes are wide, full of wonder to become a version of myself that I see.

But these days become months and the months become years and I’m afraid this is all I’ll ever be.

Pacing my section, living in my head.