he asked me what was wrong,
he said he was my friend.
but i sat there wondering,
what kind of friend
would do this to a friend?
// Lies People Tell //
saying goodbye is hard for me
because I watched the ones I loved,
leave,
without saying a word.
// wordless //
we’re talking
and fighting
and screaming
and crying
; pretending that we’re listening to each other’s hearts,
when we’re only really interested in our own
// we aren’t listening //
everyones laughing drunkenly outside the window at the memories they won’t be able to remember tomorrow
I wonder what is so appealing about the idea of forgettable nights and engaging with strangers who won’t exist by tomorrow morning
then I remember,
that forgetting those moments
allows us to re-live them over and over again
sometimes not remembering tells us
those moments were worth forgetting
because if we did remember what happened,
we may just decide to not live,
or at least live the way we did,
that night,
and on all the other nights we chose to forget
// Is this living? //
you looked at my bones like gold,
and pushed my skin down
to imagine a finer distinction
pointier,
rougher,
and thinner
than my own
silently,
you showed me what you wanted
and what I was at that moment,
was not enough.
// Bones like Gold //
80… 90….100
miles per hour we go
you sped down the road
hands smashing onto the dashboard
with my screams turning into tears
as I gripped the side of my seat
accepting the fact that this car ride may never end,
and this seatbelt may never come off
unless I jump out the door
// Safety First //
“pretty, pretty please Nan,
can I come back really, really soon?”
she said to me.
with tears in my eyes,
I couldn’t find the words to respond.
it had been a decade since I wished to stay somewhere
so strongly that I begged
I realized at that moment,
that I would never experience that longing again
childhood was the only time that a feeling like that existed
// Longing //
I look at her and wonder where the world went wrong
if everyone were to have the soul of a 3-year-old girl,
things may go differently
as I ponder,
she turns to me out of the blue and asks,
“Are you okay?”
I want to scream no and tell her that she’ll only be able to wonder how others feel for so long until she learns the truth,
that no one’s okay.
everyone’s pretending.
and that someday she’ll stop asking
because she’ll know the answer is a lie,
or at least not the full truth
the people who embrace her kindness and shield her youth today
are bound to be overpowered tomorrow
by the corruption
and anger
and guilt
and pain
that could overflow oceans
and hearts
and minds
during this,
all I want to do is look at her and say
“are you okay?”
because I know there will only be so many more times that
she will say yes
and really mean it without hesitation
but instead I tell her that I’m okay
because I need her to believe this half-truth
she has yet to unmask
and secretly I hope that someday
she may grow older
and still believe it
without hesitation
as I used to
before.
I think that if we all chose
to protect the hearts of 3-year-old girls,
and allowed them to bask in oblivion for just a bit longer
without exposing them to what our modern-day truth looks like
that maybe someday,
somewhere,
a little girl will create her own
and although she may have never known our version,
we gave her the chance
we hadn’t been given:
to form her own truth
without it being decided for her.
// you decide //
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