I loved the quiet,
still brightness from the lamp in our bedroom.
Leaning, against the bed
book on my lap watching
pages fan shadows under my fingertips.
Seeing, reading, learning, growing dreams of another life
another bedroom.
bigger than the one we share with brothers and sisters.
Tell me,
why do the dreams still feel like. Dreams.
Far away.
I sit in my new room,
a dark room.
And the light switch sits too, heavy on my fingertips.
Too heavy to move.
Yes I am afraid. To bring my failures
into the light.
And in the dark, only me
desperately
heartbreakingly
alone.
But a worn piece of paper
is a lifeline –
a note from the past
is a promise to my future.
I. will. never.
let someone else.
Feel. Like. This.