Rosalind, with the bedroom of her heart (blackout poetry)

Ask for help

They tell you,

But when you do,

They refuse to give it,

Be yourself

They chant,

But when you try,

You're told to hide away. 

The light flickers in my bedroom

as I brush my hair;

I remember that theory that it’s someone dead trying to speak to you,

I’m sure it’s just a thing from movies.

The light flickers again in the bathroom 

live in the moment

i'm trying so hard to look 

   at you

and not to think of the possibilities i know

   i can't have,

all the things you rejected the moment