Sweat

I miss sweating.

I miss my bangs
sticking to my
sticky, broad, flat
forehead.

I miss the salty smell
of salt pouring
down my back
and neck.

I miss claustrophobia,
and waking up
to exhaustive
showers and baths.

I miss the glare of
the Sun, knifing my eyes
and shape-shifting
my weight.

I miss sleep patterns,
not wondering
why it’s so late,
but why it’s so early.

I miss sweating
because it means
my pores are active
and I’m still alive.