Still: Here by Margot Ratchman (15, Connecticut)

There is no life: here 
It is darker than I would have liked 
I place one foot onto the darkness 
Breathe in 
wobble 
Breathe out 

---

Then: fall 
Or fly? 
I am twirling, swirling 
pictures painted in the summer skies 

Sickness clings to the used-to-be-pretty-peeling-painted walls 

wet shirt damp against your back 
my back, too 

I think maybe? I see stars? Beautiful circles of light? Fluttering towards me?
NO! 
              NO! 
                            NO! 
Every direction pulled, up; 
down, home; 
past. 
Each atom separates 

We are: alone. 

Screams 
Terror 
Tears 
Silence. 

Am I still: here? 

Daddy? Is that you? I can see you flipping pancakes! Good morning, Daddy!

Mama? I’ve never seen that dress! Oh, you got it months ago? It looks good on you, Mama.

Teta? Teta, are we still going out today? Please? 

Where did the things go?

Those things? 

Yes, those things. I can’t remember their names?

They were just flying towards us, remember? 

I’m sorry. 

I thought I would know you, after all this time. I took care of you

I trusted you 

We didn’t always get along 

I’m so so sorry Please I can’t Breathe 

I’m Trying Stop yelling I can’t Breathe 

You betrayed 
I’m sorry 
me