In the stillness of my bedroom,
the light of midnight
folds upon itself,
one thick layer at a time
like a painfully blue towel
slowly flooding the space
as the clock rolls along,
unable to stop.
All it takes:
a single memory;
“but that’s for girls,”
awake till dawn, waiting
as I live in that reverie
where my nails aren’t oh so pale,
where my self isn’t the talent of an actress,
where I can wear that pretty dress
and feel the wind on my hairless skin.
But before the midnight’s light fades,
I stand from my mother’s old and sturdy chair,
reach out under the folds of the thick blue towel,
take in that oh so familiar scent, and grab from above
the bottle of purple nail polish,
for tonight is a dark, dark night.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 4:07 AM UTC
In the stillness of my bedroom,
the light of midnight
folds upon itself,
one thick layer at a time
like a painfully blue towel
slowly flooding the space
as the clock rolls along,
unable to stop.
All it takes:
a single memory;
“but that’s for girls,”
awake till dawn, waiting
as I live in that reverie
where my nails aren’t oh so pale,
where my self isn’t the talent of an actress,
where I can wear that pretty dress
and feel the wind on my hairless skin.
But before the midnight’s light fades,
I stand from my mother’s old and sturdy chair,
reach out under the folds of the thick blue towel,
take in that oh so familiar scent, and grab from above
the bottle of purple nail polish,
for tonight is a dark, dark night.
