I found it in a drawer

I found it in a drawer

where I wasn't looking.

A lip balm, still in its plastic clamshell,

the label faded to almost nothing,

the kind of thing I could have bought

with my own money.

But I wanted to take it.

That's the part I can't explain—

not the wanting of the thing itself,

but the wanting to take it,

the feeling in my chest

when I slid it into my jacket pocket

like I was stealing something that mattered.

I've never used it.

It's probably expired,

the balm separated from its oils,

useless now.

But I can't throw it away.

I can't look at the person I was—

the girl with her hand in her pocket,

her heart racing,

feeling alive

because she was doing something

she wasn't supposed to do.