you are young, young enough that

you can look in the mirror and see

your grinning, toothy smile and not

indents and imperfections on foreign skin


it’s a sunny day outside, and

you’re in the library. arms weighed

down by a bag of books

your eyes will later pour over,

escaping the cries and screams

of a Lady You Do Not Know

from the next room over


hotel lights flicker, while

you think about those who once were

and you are far from home,

(you are always far from home)

when the Lady You Do Not Know tells you she

feels like you are her best friend, and

her arms wrap around yours and you wish

you could figure out how to scream again


you feel your lovelessness bleeding through the mundanity

of conversation, but they sit next to you in class,

a refuge from yourself,

the antithesis to the rest of your life,

and they are kind and loved, and you want

to brush your fingers through their hair

and they call your name and the world

tips below your feet, but you stay

in place because you know love

is for beautiful people,
​
anyway.

Writer's Statement: ​This was one of the first poems I wrote, ever. I had no tangible experience with poetry at the time, so the craft and format felt uniquely my own. I hope readers can feel the newness in each word as well.