Alisha Kumar is a junior in high school in Chicago. She writes poetry at 2 am, in the middle of storms, and when she’s home alone because, really, are there any better times?
goodbye to a friend
i brought a knife to a gunfight
you brought a quiver and a bow
(maybe we’re more alike than we think)
dark room, bloody walls, overdramatic
just the way you liked it, yeah?
the carnage invisible
to everyone but the fighters
(a battle with room for two)
my riposte against your poisoned arrows
i dealt in pain
but you deal in death.
does bleeding out
mean i was alive then?
that IT didn’t swallow me whole?
that i was still human?
you didn’t seem to think so.
(but i got the last word,
not that it matters.)