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.

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?