Midnight love is superficial,
anonymity is its own selfishness,
and all forms of materialism are capitalistic,
whether we would like to admit it or not.
You’re not who you are to anyone.

I had nothing to lose, she gave me every reason to die.
I had an abstract childhood,
colors, shapes, lines formed what little I knew to be true
I’m moving into a concrete adulthood,
rules will dictate what little freedom I’ll gain.

The middle space is truthfully inevitable,
but I’ll treasure this moment,
here,
where sitting in front of my computer and rapidly typing poetry 
is one of few worries, alongside college applications 
and planting my feet firmly on the ground,
finding a balance all my own.

Written while listening to Good Looking by Suki Waterhouse