“Well, by that point, she’d already had a bit of a history.”
“History?” I whisper.
He tips his chin toward the shoebox in my grip, the usual light in his eyes nowhere to be found. “Go ahead.”
“What about that one?” I reach toward the box he didn’t give me, the one still sitting beside him, but my dad snatches it too quickly.
“Not today.” He pushes it behind him. His lips thin, and he looks away. “More poems, but they’re, ah, they’re a bit too heavy.”
I stare at it for a few seconds, eyeing the duct tape. “You said you’ll tell me what’s going on.”
“I am. Starting with those.” He nods toward the poems in my lap. When I narrow my eyes, he narrows his right back. “I’m not budging on this, Blue. You wanted answers, and those will tell you what you need to know.”
With a heaviness the weight of an elephant sitting on my chest, I let out a sigh and pick up the scrap of paper on top. It’s small enough to fit in the center of my palm.
Because the galaxy is enormous, deep, and mysterious,
and we’re all just stars drowning behind stars.
Hoping someone will see our light
and clutch it tight
before we burn out forever.
My hands shake. It sounds just like Mom yet nothing at all like her.
My dad shifts beside me. “She wrote them at different points. Some when she was sixteen, others when she was twenty. Most of them in between.”
I reach for the next before I can talk myself out of it.
But I am free. All I am is free.
And, still, my soul is shackled.
The office door opens, but I don’t look up. Blood rushes to my ears. I pick up another.
I’ve been hiding for so long I finally understand there’s no use.
You can’t hide from your own mind, and mine is starving,
eating me from the inside out.
Rebecca clears her throat. “I’m sorry. Someone’s here to see you, Tim.”
There’s a pause, then he pats my shoulder, squeezing gently before standing. “You can stop at any time, okay? We’ll be downstairs.”
They’re off to find themselves now,
chasing the sun with wide eyes.
She’s watching too though,
watching them run,
their dreams rattling in their pockets.
So entranced by pretty sparks,
