I wake up only when the skies are dark and twinkling with flickering buttons

When the brightest source of light is either the scarred moon or the shutting lamp post on the street that dies every blink of an eye

And when the atmostphere is not covered with dusk, I hide beneath my covers

I was taught to only appreciate anything that makes me less visible

I was told I was like an open book–

So my mother told me to hide behind closed doors and fallen curtains

She told me it is to keep me safe–

She told me if they can’t see me, then they would have no reason to want to hold me, to run their eyes through me;

She thought that’s what I’d like

I think she is right

I’ve been hiding from the sun for so long—I’ve calloused my eyelids from closing it too hard

I’ve named every peck of dust under my bed and have counted the threads on my blanket

And now,

There is a firefly in my room,

And I wonder how it got in

This tomb I am in is locked to every inch, that not even the faintest gleam could get inside


I whispered under my breath and saw it land right on my chest—

A light.


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