Dirty Halo On A Tuesday

Dirty Halo On A Tuesday

Dirty halo on a weekday
twisted
bent
still hanging on your head

You swear you are nothing much
just tired
just grumpy
just trying not to lose the thread

But you keep showing up
for other broken creatures
when you can barely stand yourself
in bed

You drag yourself home
with takeout in one hand
and a bag of regret in the other
same crooked weekday
same worn shoes kicked across the floor

You talked too sharp at work again
snapped at someone
who did not earn that edge
then replayed it all the way to your door
like you were standing on a ledge

The sink is full
the bin is full
your chest is full of that low throb
that whispers you are a mess
and always will be

Then your phone buzzes
with a “made it home?”
from someone who never asks for polish
just wants to know
you can still see

You have not meditated
hydrated
stretched
or “worked on yourself”
the way every smug article says
you should by now

You ate fries for dinner
forgot your meds twice this week
lied to your boss
and blamed the traffic somehow

Yet when your neighbor’s kid
lost their keys
and sat crying in the hall
with a busted backpack and scraped knee

You sat on the floor
shared your fries
wrapped a cartoon bandage
around their arm
and turned that hallway
into a safe place to be

Nobody saw that
but the peeling paint
and the cheap light
no choir
no gold
no big reveal

Just one tired person on a weekday
doing something quiet
that made the air feel real

You answer late-night messages
from friends who only text
when they are hanging
by a fingernail in the dark

Sit with them on call
while the silence stretches
toss dumb jokes in like flares
wait for that first small spark

No training
no secret script
just your own worst nights
as reference
for what helped you stay

You tell them
“drink water, breathe
block that bastard
I’m not going anywhere
not today”

You keep a running list
of every time you failed
every chore undone
every habit you did not nail

You never count the hospital visits
the rides
the coffees
the times you refused to bail

If there is something keeping score
it is not the dishes
or the inbox or the gym
or all the ways you fall behind

It is the hand on a shaking shoulder
the spare blanket
the stupid meme
that pulls someone back
from the edge of their mind

You are not a lost cause
stumbling through another week
of almosts and a losing grade

You are proof
that even flickering light still counts
when the rest of the street fades

Next time you call yourself useless
while you pace that late-night room
picture that dirty halo
lighting up the gloom