i imagine you sprawled across your bed
ankles crossed in the air, hair
falling in strands out of your neon
ponytail, bent over some graphic novel
that looks like it’s seen the bottom
of a backpack far too many times.

i imagine you have one of those smiles,
the kind that blooms soft and slow
across your cheeks like a lily, Louyse.

Lily Louyse, i see you upside-down on the
monkeybars, grinning like it all means nothing,
like the fire is long-gone, no smoke in the
air.
not anymore.

but the fire once was, we both know.

it burned your eyes as you shook
body wracked with a million papercuts
a million scars only you could see.
it licked your palms as you
clawed
at the darkness, wishing for some answer
some semblance-of-self.
i see you curled in a ball on the floor
silently begging the world for—
oh, i don’t know.
all I know is i’ve done, felt, screamed
the same.

but i have this strange feeling that
you peeled yourself up and gathered
each scrap ripped like a banned book
and taped yourself together
with shaking fingers.
and then you floated downstairs and
let the television drown out those
stupid, stupid thoughts and
smiled as kate winslet embraced the
sky—“i’m flying!”—
and i have this strange feeling that you will be
okay.