The Toadstool Said It Was Okay

I paired this bittersweet poem with whimsical, surreal imagery because sometimes anxiety makes the world feel strange and magical at once.

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I sat beneath the hum of classroom lights,

heart scribbling faster than my pen ever could,

rehearsing lines like spells I might forget mid-sentence,

while my thoughts twirled like leaves caught in tea steam.

You were the giggle in the corner of my mind,

the puff of colour in a world of graphite and dread,

wearing joy like a scarf too bright for halls lined in rubies of red ink.

Sometimes I imagined you beneath a toadstool,

sharing secrets with painted frogs and whispering to bees,

someplace far from the questions I feared and the answers I feared more.

So I let you go, quietly, like a sigh that carries meaning

even if no one hears it,

because even my jittering, trembling hands knew

you deserved a sky not dulled by my weather.

And though I kept you,

I never held you too tightly.

Not even in my dreams.

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