The Stars Found


is tiring—

absolutely wearing—

but I never thought I'd be under these tiny shining lights,

where I feel serene—

where I hear the faint chime of voices merging 

to countdown to a new year.

A concept: a truly new year.

I wish I'd understand it, but we

are stuck on this never-ending string of seconds/minutes/hours.

When will we stop counting down 

and popping champagne

and ripping away pretty wrapping paper?

There is a new year

where my soul sheds its seventeenth skin.

I am free,

but not quite.

I am shouting

to live,

dusting glitter and moonlight

into my hair

and coating the edges of my skin

to make me feel like the gold

people have told me I am.

when I tip my glass back and taste the bubbles,

bittersweet and warm,

I must remind myself to play hide and go seek

with the smiles buried and silhouetted for me

within the twelve months ahead.

My seventeenth skin lies on the floor beside my feet.

I kick it aside and memories from the past

rise to choke me.

I am a star

too high up

for them to touch.

Text by Gwen Peralta and Visuals by Natalie Ondrik