i collect the fireflies in my hand
gazing at the pink sky
as the sun sinks below the atmosphere.
i feel them buzz around my fingers
chaotically and rhythmically.
i’m the background singer
in my stage show
i’m a fraud
i’m sapphire stones
bleeding blue on my own.
the wasps are moving
the trees are eerily still.
i’m never letting these fireflies go.
the only release i’ve had in a while.
i’m tired of having a rehearsed smile
in the back of my throat.

the fireflies have died inside my hands.
i suffocated them
with my sweaty palms
and scrunched fingers.
my first mistake was believing in miracles.