Lit Mag Poetry


I wonder what they think
When they see me
Shaking in the dark

When the inky midnight sheet of yore
Suffocated me

Leaving only
The shred of light
A cool and muted red.

Why does the cloaking unknown
Scare me shitless
Breaking me apart
For all to step on.

Why do i have to crumble under the pressure
tear-stroked and cold
Unlike the heroes
Who make the night a part of them
And only see

But maybe there’s something real about that extra space
Even soul crushing and raw-
Like Nyx on a mysterious evening

I am the night
And I bare emotion

Sensitive and small
Until the night

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