Photo by Susanne Jutzeler on Pexels.com
A party. Neon lights. A search for self-worth. Witches and dead things and the moon.
I wrote this poem (or poetic short story?) about the struggle to exist in this world.
“Here is for all the queer people, me, you, us. For our frustration and heartbreak, for the permission to exist that isn’t granted, but seized and lost again, over and over.”
Jordyn Saelor 