Post by post.

A gap cuts

through my smile

as I spring onto my parents’ bed.

A coin presses warm in my palm,

holding proof of

tiny magic.

I wedge myself between them,

certain the world would

hold

the space around us.

-

But it didn't.

-

Racing the sunset home,

my bike chain

ticks

the time

beneath me,

streetlights blink awake behind.

I leave it

leaning by the gate,

swing it wide

and rush inside.

I didn't turn back

-

or maybe I did.

-

Whispers of crushes

and secrets

drift into

laughter

down

the

halls.

Shared makeup,

borrowed clothes

and perfume

stained on our wrists.

Unrefined

by the expectations of age.

-

Until we were.

-

Counting years by summers and terms.

Time felt perpetual,

seamless.

An open pasture,

untethered

by a fence.

-

Then,

one day,

one stood there

and I realised

-

I had built it myself.

-

The posts stood

firm

and steady.

Bound together

by quiet moments

to hold up every frame.

-

A coin,

changed in value.

A bed,

a little smaller

A perfume,

unworn for years.

-

Each panel

unknowingly

placed.

-

Each moment

linked

through time

by who I was,

who I am.

-

And

every gate

left open

kept swinging

-

until it didn't.

-