If anyone told me when I was little that when I was older,
when the leaves fell down I would be so sad
I wouldn’t have watched them spiral down with such wonder.
I might have even taken the liberty of climbing to the tops of them
and
taping them to their own branches.
The younger version of myself loved me more than I do now.
There are a small collection of us fighting for our lives,
as extinguished lights all we look for is more darkness to hide with.
Among empty red seats of an all but abandoned theatre I found my reflection.
A mirror in the shape of a girl.
Cries of help can be only mere whispers if need be
and
I have many secrets I do not wish to shout.
She spoke to me more with her eyes than with her mouth,
in turn I found that we spoke the same language.
Maybe I was too afraid to ask her where home was
but
she did tell me that she went to bed early
“and not like 8 pm early, like 6 pm early”
I wondered if that was because she was in love with the darkness or her dreams.
You don’t ask questions like that unless you’re prepared to answer them yourself.
What I can tell her is what I know:
We are electric.
My lips aren’t quite frozen
and
my battery is not yet dead
and
if igniting one another saves both or neither at least we tried.
I will use my words as a defibrillator,
shocking you, shocking you, shocking you,
until I once again hear the sound of fire, keeping you alive.
I won’t give up on you so you better not give up on yourself.
I will bring you back to life.
*Illuminate the darkness for me darling
seasonal depression is kicking my *** (and also hers)