Trembling in the distance, the faint sound of the piano touched my palms.
I was infatuated by the thought of glitter, she said.
Trying my very best to understand the mere definition of beauty.
I encouraged myself to be beautiful, in each sense.
Do what I say,
And you will be beautiful, it said.
My little lack of letting my own light lure into my bones.
This little piano sits in the back of my mind, and tells me things.
Very soft, uncanny ideas, it tells me.
Wishing to be taken for the word beautiful,
And wishing for each little light to lure into my bones.
I wish for the whispering girls outside my window to stop,
Stop with this whispering.
I do not know how to perceive any of the information anymore.
Soft little light brushes my cheek,
The lights tells me every once in a while to be true.
But they don’t tell me quite enough, so I don’t remember.
This piano plays little tunes, it reminds me.
Reminds me of how alone I am not.
Because my bones are longing to lure in its own light.
I know, she said.
It told me things,
Uncanny, soft things.