me | poetry ✓

real friends

sometimes we'd start in the darkness

and then, the walls begins to color itself white

and then a light turns on,

allowing only our shadow to mirror us on one of these white walls.

and then another light bulb hangs from the ceiling,

another shadow appears,

and then another one,

and another one,

and another one,

and another one,

and another one,

and

another

one

appears

until there's so many shadows

that we can't tell which one was first

or second

or third

and which one is really the other half of us.

then we scream

and shout

and jump

and punch

and kick

and cry.

"which one is the real other half of me?"

and then a light bulb falls from the ceiling

crash it went against the hard, white concrete floor,

crash went another light bulb,

then another one

and another one

and another one

and another one

and

then

another

one

crashes

against

the

hard,

white

concrete

floor.

the room was almost dim,

the last few light bulbs hung onto their red, blue and green veins,

swaying slightly,

in an attempt to trick that it will fall at any second.

we wait for the light bulbs to fall,

but they stayed.

"so, it's you."

we stare up at them in amazement,

a roll of tear falling down from our eye, to our cheek, sliding off our narrow chin

and crash unto the floor it went.

the floor filled with broken shards of glasses with a pool of blood dripping from the cuts of our feet,

painting the white floor scarlet,

a new favorite color for love.

-n.d.