I looked in mirrors deep-
Found myself in cobwebbed enemies,
I held my hand out in admiration.
Of their colors.
Of their authenticity.
I am not whole without them.
They are the pure part of this body,
They are the basement voices,
The ones that I keep in mind-
When I find too much sky,
The basement voices,
Hold them in a fold of your heart.
Feed them rarely
But, feed them-
Just to sleep at night,
Just so that when company comes-
They don’t do cartwheels on your good carpet.
Just so you can make it.
Just to make them feel seen.
Because, even the scary things-
Fear being left alone for too long.