The Last Step

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Featured Image from Unsplash. Photo by John T.

A Poem by Myshelle Stephens

I stand alone at the last step with a cigarette between my fingers.

The air feels heavier

My chest feels lighter

Everything feels different, but suddenly it feels as if things have never changed.

So much of me is still sitting on that first step.

 

I stand alone at the last step with a thesis in my hand

The music sounds the same.

The drinks taste the same.

Everything feels the same, but suddenly it feels as if everything has changed.

I turn to find them on the step behind me.

 

As a child, I was scared of being left behind on that step alone

But now that I’ve skipped my steps,

I stand alone on the very last step with a cigarette in my fingers,

Everyone I love now stands behind me, cheering my name

And all I can think of is how I’m not ready

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