Goodbye (Brianna. After 2 years of quarantine,)

it felt like my life reset.

I looked at the faded melanin from my 

palm to the back of my hand, 

juxtaposed by the dirty MTA floors,

as the weight of my life sunk into my winter boots––

my eyes gawked out; a paralyzing fearful thought crept into my mind:

“None of this is real.”

I gripped my arms, burying my nails into my skin,

stepping back from the yellow brailed lines 

and pressing my back to the tiled subway wall:

Breath in…

Breath out…

I squeezed my eyes hard, hoping the back of my eyelids 

was a blanket shielding me away from paranoia.

My view shifted to one of thirds; I could see myself,

I could see her, and I could see her body.

S P L I T

Her, who was she?

A small, 

radiant light sat 

with her head on her knees. She 

slept inside her body while I inhabited it.

Who is she?

Young, naive, and spoiled.

Her favorite subject at school 

was gym, art, and math class.

She jumped up and down before her mother’s 

feet when she finally saw her after a long 

shift at the liquor store.

“Mami, mami,” she’d call, and both her mother’s 

and grandmother’s heads 

turned. 

She’d point to her mother, “Ma!” 

They chuckled before she swept 

and cradled in her mother’s arms. Her plaid 

blue uniform brought nostalgia to her mother’s eyes.

She loved playing with Geoffrey, 

the Giraffe and The Pigeon; she never 

named anything or hung things up on the wall; 

she pinned everything in her mind.

She brought cookies for lunch, 

wrote people’s names for each day of the week, 

and alternated who got a cookie each day.

She’d doodle in her notebook all day in school.

She loved to play the Sims and pretend to have a dog.

She loved to spend hours drawing.

She lit up her grandfather's face 

when she got home, her light ignited his candle instantly, 

his grin lasting till the night when his sleep 

tucked his smile into bed. 

She held her mom’s hand and said, 

“I don’t need presents; I just need you.” 

She fought back tears as they walked down the street, 

her eyes covered by her oversized coat.

Maybe one day she’d get the world of her dreams.

Brianna, the girl known for her two braids.

I’ll be your windbreaker on a windy day

      or your umbrella on a rainy day

Even when hurricanes flood your mind, 

I’ll be there to pick you up, dry you off, and 

ignite you with the lighter 

I built for you 

along the way.

“There is a down-

      town   one   train   to South Ferry

approaching the station,

     please stand away from the platform edge.”

I open my eyes to find the train blending 

into lines of color in space. Once the doors open,

I sit on the yellow seat 

in the middle of the cart and 

hold my bookbag in my lap.

May you wake up from your slumber someday, 

but for now, I’ll be here, 

         waiting.