i have spent days hiding in shadows
closets, behind stacks of boxes, where
light only comes in when someone remembers
something that they've forgotten--

i crave that 25 percent of sunshine, of
being told "you're alright" or if i'm lucky,
"you're not bad to be around" because then
i know that sitting in the dark was worth it.

i keep a mantra in my head--
broken toys get fixed. broken toys get found.
broken toys get loved just as much as if they weren't broken.
i repeat it over and over and over, waiting for that crack of light.