a collection of things in my room

i have always liked pretty things, 
so i painted over my body in acrylics.

i have always wanted a corner bed so i moved it, 
there are fairy lights around me 
pretending to be a halo like i was every good enough, 

there's a chain of little purple pillows with bells attached to them 
hanging from my window that was given to me by someone i don't care about anymore, 
but i used to, 

i have a heart shaped pillow that i got because it's lopsided and
i was afraid no one would love it. 

there's a little bench on the end of a trail near my house 
and i like to sit there and pretend i am like the flowers, 

i sit inside my room and i try not to cry

i like wearing skirts but i don't want to be called a slut 
so i lock them up in my closet until i am free 

i think that i think too much when i turn off all of my lights 
i want things to go back to normal. 

it was only supposed to be two weeks. i miss being held. 
my alarm clock is shaped like a lemon and i wish that i would wake up.

it i so much easier to sleep than to talk to people
i'm not sleeping but i don't talk to people

i try to hard but i don't try enough 
the tree outside understands me and now that i sleep next to him
i wake up with the sunlight, 

i do my homework like i want to achieve something, 
half the time i'm not listening on their video calls, 
because watching videos of clothes i'm never gonna wear is much more entertaining, 

have you ever talked to the wind? i have,
and it doesn't say much back, 
just leaves you whistling and empty, 

i feel like someone's leaving me, but i don't know who, 
when you and I talk it's not the same anymore, 
it's okay though, we will always have Rumi and cookies for breakfast, 

i look up at the sky and i pray, 
but i'm not sure what i'm praying to. 
 

Nightheart

VT

18 years old

More by Nightheart

  • My People (As Anchors)

    Brown bodies sink, 
    are weighted, stick 
    to the ocean floor, falling
    from overcrowded rafts
    into the arms of their heathen’s heaven.

    Brown bodies are shot over 
    the border like cannon balls.
  • Bluebird song

    Climate Change Contest: Gold

    I. 
    I wish I hadn’t been born in the Age of Extinction, 
    I really don’t think my origami heart was made for this,
  • An American prayer

    This is an American prayer. 
    This is a mother lifting her child onto her fingertips. 
    This is our planes leaving. 
    This is a blurry green shot of a soldier. 
    This is a history book.