by Devon Webb
If there is a calmness in the centre of the storm
it would be here with you
where the world revolves loudly around us but
the only sound that matters
is that of your words tripping over each other
the same way mine do.
If there is a light in the darkness after dusk
it would be bright blue
like a planet
like a star
like your eyes cutting lines through the silence
& straight into my heart
where the truth burns bright like a beacon
and any chance of keeping my feelings a secret
withers up in the overwhelming heat.
If there is a way to communicate my intentions effectively
it would take the form of a poem
where I could write the words down so very carefully
instead of having them all rush out of my mouth
and make a mess of themselves
although if they did
you'd clean it up without complaint,
sorting through the stupid shit I say
& making it all make sense.
If there is a test to determine
how badly I want you
& how brave I have become
this would be it
& now would be my moment
to accidentally brush against you
& accidentally let you catch me staring
& accidentally let my guard down
& accidentally let you know
that none of this is an accident
& I've been waiting for you all along.
Devon Webb is a 25-year-old writer & editor based in Aotearoa New Zealand. She writes full-time, exploring themes of femininity, vulnerability, anti-capitalism & neurodivergence. She shares her poetry online, through live performance, & has been widely published worldwide. She is an in-house writer for Erato Magazine, an editor for Prismatica Press & Naked Cat Publishing, & is currently working on the final edits of her debut novel, The Acid Mile. She can be found on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok & Bluesky at @devonwebbnz.