you say you can feel it break, feel the 
tear in the seam that was already frayed. 
that the night tastes different now that the 
rains have dried, now that the leaves have 
fallen. that somewhere between autumn 
and winter the fabric of youth split apart 
like it all meant nothing, like it was part of 
some senseless game. that the memories 
you associated with youth are dying, and that 
they can’t save you from the life you once knew.

and that after the nostalgia, hope is a 
faint dream on a dark county road 
with no streetlights and no sign of life, 
but you hang on to it because you know 
that each season only lasts about three months, 
and that the even in death there is beauty.

and you recall something from your youth, 
something from those dying days, something
you once sang to so many strange faces that
had no hope and had no place to go, something 
you once sang to yourself when you had only 
yourself and no hope and no place to go.

and so you sing it once again, just once more: 

skeletons protecting 
these half beaten hearts
somewhere between shadows
is light hiding in the dark

Tohm Bakelas is a social worker in a psychiatric hospital. He was born in New Jersey, resides there, and will die there. His poems have appeared in numerous journals, zines, and online publications. He is the author of 22 chapbooks and several collections of poetry, including “No Destination” (Kung Fu Treachery Press, 2021) and “The Ants Crawl In Circles” (Whiskey City Press, 2022). He runs Between Shadows Press.