Blank Space

Is there a place
for him in this world,

where he doesn’t need to
cut and unzip
the space around him,
step into silence
and hide himself
in common sight?

Is there a place
for her in this world,

where she doesn’t have to
squeeze herself
into a flimsy, curvaceous cutout,
paint on “lol” and “tbh”
and smother herself
with banality?

Is there a place
for us in this world,

where we don’t have to
fit ourselves
into painful stilletos

and simply present ourselves
as is?

© Zelda Reville

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