snowflakes dotted the rooftop
with a concrete backdrop
in summer weather

i made my corner,
overlooking bubbles of joy
alcohol memories being recorded
a live concert of experience

each visitor gave their introduction
told me what year they were from
without telling me outright

born 1998, from the year 2013
born 1995, from 2008

their core memories on display
when their eyes light up
to illuminate their year
when i ask about their favorite thing

what year do people read in mine?

i want to be the example
to be heard, understood
to help heal

but i am the accessory instead

the tool to self-harm
the body to witness yours
the rib to your cage

i have no childhood photos
but that doesn’t make you sad
it is easier to erase someone without a past

i am but a part of you, but you make up all of me.

i am stuck in the in-between.

it was a white room
featureless but for a door
through which you wandered

you were tiny, with wispy dark hair
reaching almost to your feet
blowing past your ears in a mane as you walked

I first noticed your night gown
almost laughable in its lack of modernity

I looked into your eyes with green and yellow flecks
the curiosity on your face as you read mine.

I never met this version of you.

before whatever happened to make you lose sense past self
whoever hurt you
whatever they did

my mother, before

throwing my farewell party today
leaving everything I know and love behind

trinkets in the basement

finally going through all of my things
parts of me hiding from myself

all the clothes I secretly got for when I felt better
a reward I never gave myself

there is so much that is hiding here.

bags of clothes
hobby items
entire lives, buried underneath my attention

this place has taken so much from me
and is so much I have to pack.

we both had much to do
many people to say hello to
offset in our arrival

it hadn’t occurred to either of us.
your friend knew my friend knows us
some combination led to both of us freezing
the church bell of our brains ringing out
“hey?”

you.

a ravine’s worth

no place to echo but in your own head
suddenly,
the entire room heard it.
“hey?”
unspoken, deafening.

“hey?”
of all people.
of all the second floor humid apartments.

“hey?” you
and him. and them.

better fits.
but you? here?

a word began to open our mouths
clumsy, hesitant, but doting
a word full of everything.
every wet night,
starlit dream
every fist bruise
every pang — guilt, pain, loneliness
a word so full of meaning
that absolutely nobody but us would understand why
understand how so few letters could carry so much weight
spelling out:
forgiveness
embarrassment
regret
assurance
and a final goodbye.

a goodbye spelled
“hey”