Poetry

You can come out, now

It’s funny seeing colours jump around on your skin

when all you’ve looked at before

is black and white.

When supporting hands surround you if you fall

instead of nothingness,

and the darkness can’t take hold in your mind

because sconces filled with rich fire have been lit throughout

its pathways.

 

It’s funny, having backup, an alter-ego, a friend.

You don’t quite know what to do,

because the part of you that remembers this is what it should be like

is still hiding under the blankets.