you need to do a to-do list to keep away temptation but find this instead
Each time I’m tempted, my position lands
the right way. The pit hasn’t finished echoing
since I screamed into it—it’s that
deep, the underground grave, the buried greed,
the jump I couldn’t withstand. When I fall it’s
on my feet, & I don’t know if that’s grace or
stiffness. Having every stone unturned, none meant
for me & calling it acceptance, or waiting
to act. To stone someone out of numbness. Insignificant
to everybody else, a gradual downfall that only ropes
me in. If I’m being watched over, am I thought
of as an angel-in-training or a hungry, bottomless
pit? It doesn’t look as starless as anyone says down
there, & I feel like I know everything there is to
be excited about, that I’ve exhausted all the other
dugouts & searched all the caves, each leading to dead
ends. Every day I pine for someone out there to talk
to without shame about the good I’ve stood up
for by staying upright on the rock-textured ground, &
every night I stargaze in case the sky opens for me, then I tuck
a little girl in the shadows & pray that maybe I don't
know everything there is still kept in the dark for // from me.
the right way. The pit hasn’t finished echoing
since I screamed into it—it’s that
deep, the underground grave, the buried greed,
the jump I couldn’t withstand. When I fall it’s
on my feet, & I don’t know if that’s grace or
stiffness. Having every stone unturned, none meant
for me & calling it acceptance, or waiting
to act. To stone someone out of numbness. Insignificant
to everybody else, a gradual downfall that only ropes
me in. If I’m being watched over, am I thought
of as an angel-in-training or a hungry, bottomless
pit? It doesn’t look as starless as anyone says down
there, & I feel like I know everything there is to
be excited about, that I’ve exhausted all the other
dugouts & searched all the caves, each leading to dead
ends. Every day I pine for someone out there to talk
to without shame about the good I’ve stood up
for by staying upright on the rock-textured ground, &
every night I stargaze in case the sky opens for me, then I tuck
a little girl in the shadows & pray that maybe I don't
know everything there is still kept in the dark for // from me.
About the Author
Cailey Tin is a Philippine-based teen creative. A writing manager at Incandescent Review, she also serves as a columnist for Paper Crane Journal, Spiritus Mundi, and Incognito Press. When not editing poetry for the borderline or Sophon Lit, she’s (imagining) chipping away at pieces—some appearing in Scribes Micro, Ice Lolly Review, and Sage Cigarettes. Instagram @itscaileynotkylie.