Photo by Natalia Lee
I remember when I didn’t see them.
I remember when I did.
I remember days sitting on my aunt’s bed as she blow dried my hair, staring into the eyes of a young girl hiding in her closet.
After a while, I asked her to keep the closet doors open
because sometimes she was scary to look at.
I remember calling out into the dark,
I know you’re there.
I remember dancing in my living room to a music video I had seen too many times.
I remember turning around and seeing a red haired boy standing right behind me, smiling.
as if a figment of my imagination.
I remember hiding under my covers as they tickled my legs and pulled on my sheets as if it were a game.
I remember being scared.
I don’t remember when I stopped seeing them as much.
I think during those times there was too much happening for me to notice.
I remember getting older.
I remember forgetting the realms beyond this one for a while;
and I remember
when I remembered them again.
Sometimes I can feel when they’re there.
I spent a lot of my childhood blocking them out that I wouldn’t be surprised if I never saw one again.
But sometimes I do.
I can almost hear them chanting,