as soon as you stop caring,
the earth will drop her barriers.
you’ll see freckles and acne
and bed-heads and grass-stained pants.
queer kids singing I love you,
and trans kids hearing their name for the first time.
you’ll feel the sun sink your legs in a warm bubble bath,
finally being comfortable enough to wear shorts.
you’ll do a little dance
as you taste strawberry ice-cream,
and you’ll read poems that
  float
      around,

     too bubbly to

stay still.

I admit,

sometimes it's hard to stay here.
the world shakes hard for me to leave,
for me to go back to hating everything.

I hope I'm strong enough to stay.

stay with me?

The trees cast shadows as I walk home in the dark.
My chest is heavy yet hallow,
like a wind blew through my ribs and several leaves got caught.
A street lamp glows in the distance,
and as I grow closer it flickers,
the hum of it chilling my skin.

I inch closer, now standing directly underneath.
In one breath,
my surroundings descend into blackness.
I can’t see the shadows anymore,
I can’t seem to see anything anymore.
Everything is quiet, except for the anxiety in my lungs.

I feel sort of powerful,
like my emotions are strong enough to have consequence.

I walk away, and as I do I see my silhouette.
I think, the light must have turned back on,
but the truth is,

there are coping mechanisms for seeing in the dark.