The Poet X

by Elizabeth Acevedo

I’ve forced my skin just as thick as I am.

And sharing a room wouldn’t kill us. And it hasn’t. Except. I once heard a rumor that goldfish have an evolutionary gene where they’ll only develop as big as the tank they’re put into. They need space to stretch. And I wonder if Twin and I are keeping each other small. Taking up the space that would have let the other grow.

And even that young I learned music can become a bridge between you and a total stranger.

Maybe, the only thing that has to make sense about being somebody’s friend is that you help them be their best self on any given day. That you give them a home when they don’t want to be in their own.

And I think about all the things we could be if we were never told our bodies were not built for them.

But even at the risk of burning, the moth always seeks the light.

God just wants me to behave so I can earn being alive.