Leave the Light On

I remember you standing in front of the mirror
adjusting your hair.
It was Wednesday night, and
you were wearing a meringue dress
soaked in lavender perfume.
Chalk white pearls lined your neck—
I wanted to touch them
I remember, and
you wouldn’t let me.
That morning you had told me the same lie
And it reverberated through me
Like shock waves.
Shhhhh. Shhhhh.
You coaxed me into a wax dream,
and sealed it with your lips
I’ll kiss your arm and leave my mark
Lipstick bled onto skin.
In that dream, you were happy
You’d come home with your heels on
singing Mother and
you’d cook my favorite meal: chicken in tomato cream sauce.
But that night, I remember,
you grabbed your coat and
leather purse, keys ringing together.
I’ll be home later, you said to no one
Before you stepped outside
and clicked the door shut.

___
This poem is highlighted as a winner of the 2026 Wick Honors Poetry Scholarship.

ryan spalding

Ryan Spalding is a sophomore at Kent State University and is majoring in Integrated Language Arts. She is passionate about reading and writing. In her spare time she listens to lots of music, reads, and enjoys being at home with her fat cats. You’ll often find her rummaging through CDs at The Exchange, looking for her next music obsession.