It's all getting so dark again,
and I find solace in a dimly lit phone—
a rectangle emitting light in my shadows,
a keyboard where my fingers clash,
as I'm anxious and desperate
to articulate how I feel,
to put it into words for people to read,
wondering if people can see me.

You.
Do you see me?
Do you hear me?
Do you feel me?

Is anyone out there,
who can feel how I feel?
Who sees me—
in all my ruin,
all my grace,
all my love,
It's all so dark again.

And I'm so tired.
And I'm holding onto the hope
that someone,
anyone,
can see me.