the light disappears

somewhere i exist.  it is a statement i say to myself, at times, watching my small pixelated picture that confuses me, horrifies me.  staring at texts and wondering—  did these really happen?  am i really here? 

life is a fickle creature,  and i dance drearily in between both happiness and sadness, beauty and destruction.  one moment, i am a sea of stretching to be seen—  of screams and shouts and stormy seas.  the next, i am nothing but calm— quiet and collected, no curiosity or qualms.  the struggle to outpace people whose voices work, whose voices loud and light and leap, through deafening decibels and screeching sounds, i reconcile with myself.  i tell myself, i exist.

i tell myself that there is more to me than how many people i’ve spoken too that day, how many times i stuttered or stammered, how many times i’ve felt like punching the wall. 

i’ve tried to look at my life through a polaroid picture— through joy or grief, living life with a smile or with tightly pressed lips.

i am neither. i am nothing.  and yet— 

sometimes, on nights like these, she finds herself sitting amongst the stars. the rest of the world peeled away, buildings hidden beneath the looming shadows and the grays of clouds. she breathes in sharply, the cold air resting in her chest as a swarm of emotions hits her chilled body.

its on nights like these which she remembers, she does not deserve the stars. she does not deserve the hope that twinkles above her, pure as sun, fighting through darkness to be seen. she does not know how far away they truly are, but even though they’re so far she will never reach, up here in the clouds, they feel close enough to touch.

it feels as if light is that much closer, and that one day, maybe soon, she’ll be able to feel something bright— bright as a star bursting into existence, as a smile reaching across her face, as happiness resting inside of her.

but until then she’ll float further and further in the night, restless and awake, not knowing what to do except stare and think and focus and breathe and wonder–

the words never come freely to my mouth—  the world says they’re supposed to flow, moving quick and fast in patterns galore,  shaping into sentences with remarkable ease, water flexible and moldable and easy to store,  something i know i should be able to to grow. 

but i don’t control it.  i don’t control the thousands of words and phrases bouncing around in my head, greetings running sideways as  answers fall to the ground,  none of them shaping in the water,  none of them coming out my mouth, none of them anything but thoughts, fleeting and fragile. 

the ink flows freely from my pen as my thoughts press heavily against the paper, blue dribbling across the yellowed sheets, words weighing on it like mountains,  thoughts swirling in a storm of chaos, each line a rumble of thunder against the small page.

writing has always been like this,  even as others fall apart in search of words, panning for gold and coming up short.  but gold is too shiny and soft, too empty and heavy.  instead, it is about the thoughts that scream in my head,  waiting to be let out on the page— waiting, never patient, searching for a scrap of which i can write a line,  trying to feel the melody that has been singing into my ear. 

poetry has been my comfort for the past year— feeling words and rhythms against the page, feeling out the lines in my head  as they come,  resting my left hand against the small  notebook bounded together with too many thoughts.

it is the beauty i have found, a voice that has come from years and years of  searching for a way to let it out, a way to say everything i’ve been thinking, thoughts that are nothing more than  fleeting flashes of feelings against my  small, whittled down soul. 

i pray for a better day. but no one sees, no one thinks life can be beautiful but me.  they made it blind, messed up my mind, and I’ll be deleted.  Time to prove, time to prove, what?  I thought someone stronger would be beautiful. but i’m damaged. far too damaged.  beyond repair— in my candy store, there are monsters everywhere.  

the green melting into brown as the darkness settled across the sky, and just like that, it was over.  the petals falling one by one, red tears against the ground as they fall softly to the grass, the grass turning sour, the branches turning crooked, the leaves falling like a brown blanket to a wanting floor, unrelenting winds pushing against the leaves, until the paper-thin weights were  nowhere, nothing but bits left to be  forgotten. 

forgotten.  that was what this garden was, years and years later, brown and black,  nothing more than the dreams  of a past generation. 

but.  a seed of green in a brook of promises, a small sprout that slowly reaches towards the sky with hope, the sun shining down and kindness in its  heart, knowing that it is all there is left.  with such fear comes dreams, and the sprout takes nothing for granted as a flower blooms red. and once more, 

i’m sorry.  sorry that i could never  be there for you.  there were so many days i spent guilty, sitting in my home and torn,  ripped down the center and jagged— hopeless and watching with watery eyes, worse for wear.  always worse for wear. 

our doors are closed, our streets empty, our friends gone. ghosts fill the emptiness— as night time bathes the city, the people only know darkness.

isolation. the pluck as they place on latex gloves, as a medical blue face mask falls on their lips, as they shield themselves from the few people who dare to walk on the street, as they hold bags and bags of groceries— the outside an uncertainty, inside a sanctuary.

sanctuary. is it a sanctuary? it is the emptiness of a government’s broken promise, the cry of a mother as her son is gone from the earth. it is the virus— building its way through the body, destroying town after town, city after city, until nothing remains in its path,

but fear. hysteria. chaos. chaos reigns as fear destroys trust, as communities crumble with broken faith. faith. they were supposed to have faith in a system, but now that system lays shattered in a million tiny pieces on the ground.

Smile a little more, stretch your face wide, won’t you? feel your cheeks begin to bloom as you squeeze your face out into unnatural levels, as you press your mouth open, a pair of mismatched teeth showing, your lips cracked and red, threatening to burn off with the motion.

Smile a little more, let your eyes flash with excitement, won’t you? try and make yourself look happier— even with the circles under your eyes, the redness of crying times, the apathy that lurks at the surface.

Smile a little more,  try and be happy and free and live, won’t you? No one is going to believe you’re anything but miserable the way you stand— trying to make yourself shorter in a tall space, trying to make yourself weaker in broad daylight, trying to make yourself the moon when you need to be the sun. 

Smile a little more, just be normal, won’t you? Everything about you is so odd, from the way you force yourself to stand, to smile wide and big, your limbs jutting out, your eyes bugging out, your demeanor ready to leave and to never be in a moment.

They told her that everything was going to be okay,  to find the light at the end of the tunnel, to reach through despair and find diamonds,  to dream to the stars because dreams bred reality.  But now, she sat alone, knees tucked in, tears reaching down  her face with failure coating her like skin.  Her dreams, she had seen them as clearly as the day,  bright and burning, but now they lay scattered at her feet, oblivion bleeding into the happiness she had imagined.  They had said it would work out, they had said  that she could do anything, they had said  that she was destined for great things.  Each and every word had been a lie coated in poison,  a sweet word murmured that had given her hope, dangerous hope, too much hope.  And now she was forced to live with every         wrong  choice. 

One step, then another,  keep on going and don’t look back.  The future lay in front of her like a million glowing roses, a word for her to chose, beauty among the masses, happiness, safety. 

One step, then another, keep on going and don’t look back.  But what was behind her?  Ashes lay in the place of love,  her world had been destroyed inside out,  ripped to shreds and she had only watched and waited,  watched with tears in her eyes but no movement in her limbs. 

One step, then another, keep on going and don’t look back. No. No, she had to ignore it, she had to ignore their screams and shouts because she had everything she wanted now, all of it.  One step, then another, keep on going and don’t look back. Life, she craved life, and she could suppress the tears, the pain,  take it all away because she knew that  she could find love again. She was more important than them,  she would do this. 

I saw you in the bleary moments of sadness,  it was always you, I felt that in the bottom of my heart,  within your hopeful eyes I thought I saw the future.  Thought.  The glittering I saw  in those gray eyes, so full of thinking, so full of wisdom, there was a spark there, blooming with light as you brought forth your own fight.  I lept, leaving life behind for you,  I gave up the present for the future I could see in you.  And after all of that, you were a liar. 

Snow sank silently to the ground, pure as the gray landscape was filled  with soft, white snowflakes.  it was the perfection of one moment looming overall,  a white paradise covering the gray, each snowflake resting peacefully on the ground. 

Not far away was the stinging snow, the sinister shadows looming over a neighborhood, they respected snow and yet also destroyed it— let carnage fall in the form of trash alongside sloppy steps and small imprints.

For now, the children were fine with their plastic sleds and hot chocolate, watching through the pine as lilting laughter filled the air. But the snow was shaky as the wind whipped up, ready, waiting in position like predator to prey, disguised as the  the comfort of the purity of white in their eyes.