|
a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
|
|
a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
|
![]() it is winter & all i can think about is how the world is fraying beneath my fingertips. how golden lights dance between the slants of my windowsill like fire-borne fairies. last night, i finally took down the christmas tree
with mother, my fingers digging into rough pine needles. the two of us unearthing secrets like rubies. look: dismantled tree hanging like a forgotten corpse, so fragile neither of us can steal breaths between this flickering window of time. look: after years of wishing, we are finally having a white christmas. i watch the glazed snow crystals melt in lazy puddles on the windowsill, promising to myself that i won’t ever forget this moment. outside, the neighborhood boys are piling into a beat-up sedan as it exhales gas onto the pavement. the sun, a reconstructed portrait of divinity. & no, today i will not be afraid. today, i will press gowns onto the forbidden planes of my body & catch snowflakes on my tongue until spring arrives once more. Comments are closed.
|
Categories
All
* = Editors' Choice work
Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
|