It's a quiet night with crickets,
one of those nights where it's ok
that the world spins in circles
because you can breathe
and quite honestly,
you realize poetry doesn't need a form
so long as the music holds sound
and colours can speak.
You can hold in your head the quiet belief
that you are special
and that you matter to somebody.
Simply because you do.
And the Autumn is all around you
and the entire world is tinted
and you want to cry
because you feel
safe.
