As the Night Passes by Gabrielle Galchen (17, New York)

[12:01 AM: “One year ago, today” notification] 
Dear past self, 
Can you help me down here? 
Can you see how thoughts of you are a sickness? 
I am trying to find sunlight, I am trying, 
But kaleidoscopic souls ebb and flow like waves unsure of themselves.
(Tomorrow is a parrot of today and yesterday). 
I wish to paint my eyelids fuschia 
Or glaze my lashes with maple and honey. 

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[12:57 AM: couple kisses on screen] 
Doctor, doctor, 
Do you recommend pills of roses? 
Should I pet a baby dove? 
As bells toll closer, leaves crumple into themselves 
And birdsong tumbles into moonlight. 
I paste petals in between calendar pages; 
Wrinkled madman, what could have been 
Must eventually fall into itself. 

[1:52 AM: lying in bed] 
Angel, angel, 
Can you listen to my humming candles? 
Can you loan me your wings for the night? 
Impatient and parched, my throat grumbles at me 
As I drink from the eyes of what used to be 
(Reality questions memory like a hornet to ladybugs). Meanwhile everyone thrashes for compass needles 
That point to returns and replacements. 

[3:35 AM: wakes to drink water, or dreams she is] 
Dear future self, 
Is this crafting a salve for you? 
Would tomorrow not be too late 
If I were everlasting 
(For so long, but not long enough)?

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