star

We're backstage, giddy with nerves and

tired out of our minds, whisper-laughing as we mess 

with our hair, with each other, try to put on makeup in the dark. 

She's hidden, cowering in the corner,

as she waits, mouth open,

words frozen on her lips.

She does not speak.

I mold my sadness into poetry and she watches me,

amber eyes taking in everything and nothing.

If I close my eyes it feels like I'm still there.

I can hear the clatter of plates and the clamber

to be first in line for breakfast,

The basketball court is slick with freshly-fallen rain, black nail polish hardened into enamel after spilling weeks ago lies on my desk, forgotten and right in front of my eyes, as I watch them play that game on my tiny screen, their feet sliding

She pressed the cherry into my hand,

Smiling, it didn’t mush,

Didn’t leak red juice all over my summer-calloused palm

Like fake blood, too bright to be the real thing.

Darkness falls quickly now,

the feeble sky overpowered by the black pull of eternity.

Snow turns to rain, rain turns to mud,

and every month, I bleed and I cry.

It's almost Christmas, but