Words by Sage Lewit PZ ’27

Graphic by Blue Byrnes PZ ’27

Lingerer – They say you are confused, 

Trying too hard, holding on. 

Gripping and grasping  – missing your cue 

I hear you. Your words hang quietly looming 

ahead the masses who misread you. 

Coin you insecure. Call you yet miss you no 

Further. In your absence they are remiss

Freed of your echoes which impede

On their laughter Break their flow you claw

At your throat searching 

Yet right words – proper mannerisms they exist not 

in your attempts to conform. To make yourself anew. Likable. Humorous. Clever or witty. Contributing rather than lingering 

Wanted over tagging along. 

You hope–in your most pleasant dreams–they are lacking in your truancy, 

your adjuncts are longed for

What they miss is not you, however. Truly they never knew you. 

In your attempts for acceptance your own eccentricities deepened in their burrow inside your mind, your heart. It ached and you thought it the pain of misfit 

It was not. You ached for your sparkle–the glimmer who overtakes your truth and projects your vulnerabilities. Your strength was never your security. It breathed 

through your laughter, your lingering in attempts to soak the love… to coax the numb… 

to enlighten the hidden. But you were never really invited