by Toby G., 15 (he/him)
there are many worlds where we are left invisible,
left for dead. but here, bodies furrowed under
blankets in the presence of a heater’s gentle buzz
your arms are wrapped around me and hands
interlocked this sort of intimacy is a gently glaring
reminder tapping on your window frame of
consciousness that shouts in bright lights and
ceiling tops that You Are Real and You are Okay.
the world is a beautiful place and i am glad to be in
it with you, glad to dance over powdered kitchen
tiles bowls scattered across counter tops & i am
glad you exist.
New Jersey
Bridge Ink 