Room 302, the coffee looks obedient
But my fingertip tells a different truth
One chip like a tiny siren
And I can’t reach for the polish
I line the bottles like a clean confession
Mirror smiles back with practiced teeth
Then I notice the peeled-off crescent
A perfect day with one loose thread
I say “fix it” under my breathing
But my hands don’t take the cue
The quiet starts to ring
Like glass you can’t unhear
A little noise in the white
A little truth too near
Let it chip, let it show, let it glow in the neon
I don’t need the mask to stay
Let it slip, let it sting, just a crack in the porcelain
Room 302 is breathing anyway
(softer) I’m breathing anyway
At work I miss a line, then miss another
My screen blurs like a city in the rain
Your text arrives in carefully measured angles
A lie dressed up in minimalist font
Behind my wall, a thump—then nothing
And my pulse learns the pattern
So I peel the next nail slowly
Like pulling tape from a wound of light
It’s 2 a.m., the air is thin
Acetone blooms—sharp and sweet
The humidifier keeps time
With a throat that never sleeps
Let it chip, let it show, let it glow in the neon
I don’t need the mask to stay
Let it slip, let it sting, hear the noise in the silence
Room 302 is breathing anyway
I’m breathing anyway
You knock like you own my morning
You step inside and call me “wrong”
Your fingers reach for my bare small endings
“Let me fix it,” like I’m a job
But behind the mirror, there’s a second doorway
And the wall’s been listening all along
My perfect face forgets its script now
And something calm begins to burn
Don’t paint me back.
Just… don’t.
Let it chip, let it show, let it glow in the neon
I don’t need the mask to stay
Let it slip, let it sting, I can live with the breaking
Room 302 is breathing anyway
Let it crack, let it talk, every flaw is a language
I finally hear what my skin can say
If I’m bare, if I’m real, if the dark feels electric—
Ah… I can breathe, I can breathe, I can breathe
Neon on my hands, no polish left to save
Room 302, at last—an honest shade
