I have two safe spaces here where I live.
Neither feel fully safe. Their love is more
Glow-in-the-dark stars mark these two safe spaces
A small amount over my head, on the wall behind my bed.
The glow of these stars are sad and stark;
It turns out that glow-in-the-dark stars can’t glow right
When the dark lasts day-and-night.
It turns out that glow-in-the-dark stars can’t glow right
When they cannot wallow in some light.
It’s my reality, but it makes a good metaphor;
This space is the safest one of the two here where I live.
This space is where I sleep, back to drowning in the abyss.
The darkness is never-ending there above my bed.
The stars don’t glow there—they are dim, dull, dead.
I have two safe spaces here where I live.
Neither are fully mine. Their reign is more
Glow-in-the-dark stars mark these two safe spaces
A galaxy on the ceiling of the bathroom—
That’s lacking of the feeling of the comfort,
These stars glow to a degree, but you must crane
Your neck to see them. When I look up at the pretend
Ceiling constellations, I don’t get the innocent
Child-like consolation I am supposed to attain.
The only thing it instills in me is anxiety
As I bare my throat and risk imaginary
Strangulation at the make-believe
Claws of the fake, illusive beast.
The glow-in-the-dark stars on my bathroom ceiling
Are disappointing, not comforting.
They aren’t bright enough, barely emitting any light.
They aren’t secure enough, several have already fallen.
They aren’t what I expected. What I wanted.
It’s my suffering, but it makes a good metaphor;
This space is the brighter one of the two here where I live.
This space is feeling less safe with each shadowed spirit.
The tiles are broken, the wallpaper peels, it’s falling apart.
The comfort I used to feel in here is growing scarce.
I have two safe spaces here where I live.
Neither are truly safe. Their rank is more
Glow-in-the-dark stars mark these two safe spaces
I have. And there is nowhere safer
To go in this place. The darkness is infinite
Where I sleep and dream. The solace diminishes
Slowly where light does reach. I am not ready to
Build a new safe space with mortar and
Broken bones and comfort. I was not ready to
Share my current space with the weighted
Ghost of everything negative in my mind.
I am not ready. I was not ready.