YOUNG ADULT Poem: talking, talking, talking, by Lucia Quiros

Sounds bruise my ears.
They sting, and they’re much too loud.
Locker doors slam closed, conversations I’m never invited to reverberate on the old walls, and
dirty floors
The sounds never end
Until today.

The school is extra noisy, buzzing with anticipation of the upcoming summer break.
I just want to get out of here.
I push through groups of people
Talking
Talking
Talking
Maybe about me.

The summer sun burns my skin,
Glimmering in its rays
A shard of glass—maybe something that used to be a mirror sits quietly in the grass
Nothing beautiful lies within its reflection,
But the broken glass outshines the image

Perhaps the sun is a friend I didn’t know that I needed
He won’t always be here,
He can’t stay.

When nightime fold over me,
I suppose it will just be the patient stars and I.
The stars might whisper,
And I might whisper back.
Finally a sound I enjoy to hear.