You, yellow stall walls who held me
When I cried before getting on the bus and going home,
Are strong despite your thinness.
Notes and names written in smeared sharpie on your doors
Are reminders that I am not the first to find sanctuary here.
You, warped mirror who tells me I look just fine
Even though I am too tall to be fully reflected in you,
Offer the reassurance I do not trust anyone else to give.
The way artificial light refracts in your bent glass
Gives my whole body a sort of halo.
You, faulty smoke detector who beeps without reason
Over and over and over,
Will not leave me alone with my silence.
Like a voice from above you echo off the tiled floors
And tell me there is no use in dwelling on what you cannot change.
You, beauty parlor, meeting place, smoke spot, safe space,
Are more than the sum of your parts.
You are midday solace, quiet comfort, gentle company,
My inanimate but unwavering guardian angel.
Amelia Loeffler is a high school junior currently attending The School for the Creative and Performing Arts at Lafayette High School, majoring in literary arts. Her work has most recently been published in The Messy Heads Magazine. Amelia can often be found roller skating and wearing funky pants with a coffee in hand.