for me the glass isn’t half full nor is it half empty.
thirst is what counts.
i’ve wasted too much time focusing on the contents of the cup.
slurping up buckets and buckets of excess for fear of another drought;
resulting in regret. the shameful, severing kind.
a qualm nonetheless.
only i can quell and quench the stirrings in my ping-pong brain.
no matter how full or how hydrating someone/something seems to appear;
i am my own deepest, most flourishing well.