the worn fabric of the couch tangles through my ringed fingers.
cologne of college rampant in the air:
stale chips and pretzels, spilled beer, the acidic tinge of vomit tickling my nose.
the cologne of college.
clouds of insecurity: crackling, rumbling
in warning,
a thunderstorm of bad decisions fester and brew,
jolts of electric sexuality strike dancing bodies
the pressure to be, turns benign vapor to lead
suffocating.
i watch my friends:
skin flushed, flashing coy grins and saccharine giggles,
a siren’s song to the frat bros leering hungrily,
examining the display ass and tits
bartering with the butcher.
i feel sick.
legs quaking, i step forward
tempted by the beckoning moonlight.
breaking free from the throng
onto the halcyon of the balcony,
i breathe.
the fresh scent of transitional autumn:
decomposing earth and fallen leaves.
whispers of crisp wind caress my chafed body,
coaxing gooseflesh along my arms.
the night sky twinkles overhead,
ripe with the epitaphs of dead stars.
i sigh, leaning against the chipped metal fence
heels slot comfortably between rusty rails,
and i watch the party through the polarized glass.
actors and actresses preform
a cliché d-list script,
set in an anywhere town
the distance between them and me,
feels astronomical, insurmountable.
i am unable to bridge the gap,
barred from the adolescent popular culture.
the show comes to a close
and as the lights dim to nothing,
i see a reflection,
trapped in the black mirror of the screen.
a girl looks back at me,
dark pupils
begging.
i reach forward, bringing the shivering child into my arms.
i tell her what i know she needs to hear:
that she’s normal, and not broken.
that who you are and the things you like aren’t weird.
you may feel alone now, an outsider looking in,
but you will find your people, and your place.
somewhere comfortable, where you fill the space,
not where you force yourself to fit.
i know her pain, her hurt.
i know because she was me.