Take me back to my childhood,
take me back to the beginning.
Put me to sleep so that when I awake,
I’m back to six years old.
Six years into the life I didn’t even know I had.
Reckless, an impenetrable fortress of noise and laughter.
Take me back to my childhood,
take me back to the beginning.
Put me back into my father’s lap,
and make him the only man who matters.
Six minutes into some cartoon we both found so funny.
So cared for and adored.
Take me back to my childhood,
take me back to the beginning.
Six books into bedtime,
just a few more minutes until my eyes close and I’m a wild thing too.
So warm in my bed.
Take me back to my childhood,
take me back to the beginning.
Six bouts of the giggles to overcome,
as I help my mother make spaghetti.
So full of indescribable love and pasta.
Take me back to my childhood, take me back to the beginning.
Six more years before I know what sex is.
And before I’m worried about lip gloss and boys.
So full of innocence and the purest curiosity.
Take me back to my childhood,
I just want my childhood.
Take me back to my childhood,
I promise I’ll never cry again.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Parts of Love
Part I
I'm forgetting him. It's almost scary and it startled me today when I tried to remember what he used to make me feel. I don't know it anymore. I wonder, if what I felt was never really there. I tried my best to remember a kiss, but I can't. I tried my best to remember the happiness, but I can't. I tried my best to remember the love, but it's almost gone, and it's dying to take my memories to it's grave. So next, I'll bury myself in them, I'll bury myself in the memories. But I still can't remember the kisses. Then suddenly I remember the comfort. I remember the ease. I remember him being a part of me and vice versa. How did I ever go on without that part of me, I wonder? Then again, did I really lose it? I should still have it. He should still have it. Only I let it sink to the bottom. And him? Well he just slapped a new coat of paint on it. I don't know if he's realized that he's in the same place that he ended, just covering up our remnants with a fresh coat. It saddens me to see him in the same spot. I think he's happy, but knowing him as I was then and knowing him as I am now, I couldn't tell you. I usually just brush it off as him being someone who knows who they are and what they want. I doubt it though. I still don't know who I am. I still have the chance to be whoever I want. And so does he. It makes me sad that he might not have that experience until it's too late, and it turns into a mid-life crisis and collateral damage ensues. Then again, he could go on the rest of his life, pleased with the decisions he's made about himself, and who he chose to love, and how he chose to live. Maybe I'm just projecting my fears. But I don't fear my unknown self...
Part II
I know I still love him. Something is still there. I wish terribly that I knew how to make it go away, but I don't. He probably couldn't pull that emotion up if he wanted to, because I suspect it was never really there. Loving him is a form of personal torture that I periodically subject myself to when questioning my sanity, which is more often that I'd like. After a while though, I realized that all the love in the world won't make anything work. There are a lot of things that can get in the way of love, overshadow it, and even push it into complete obsolescence. He is my mystery, my anomaly, and I'm learning to live with it in order to move forward and be truly happy.
Part III
I tend to write about the past, but he is not my past. He is my right now and I don't really know how to describe us because we have been lucky enough not to encounter love just yet. I like that I just like him. That's it, and right now it's more than enough. He doesn't rush me, us. He is damaged, and I am damaged, and that could be great and terrible and I am completely okay with that fact. I enjoy learning him, so much. And I'm learning that even if tomorrow never comes, that I have him today, and that's enough.
I'm forgetting him. It's almost scary and it startled me today when I tried to remember what he used to make me feel. I don't know it anymore. I wonder, if what I felt was never really there. I tried my best to remember a kiss, but I can't. I tried my best to remember the happiness, but I can't. I tried my best to remember the love, but it's almost gone, and it's dying to take my memories to it's grave. So next, I'll bury myself in them, I'll bury myself in the memories. But I still can't remember the kisses. Then suddenly I remember the comfort. I remember the ease. I remember him being a part of me and vice versa. How did I ever go on without that part of me, I wonder? Then again, did I really lose it? I should still have it. He should still have it. Only I let it sink to the bottom. And him? Well he just slapped a new coat of paint on it. I don't know if he's realized that he's in the same place that he ended, just covering up our remnants with a fresh coat. It saddens me to see him in the same spot. I think he's happy, but knowing him as I was then and knowing him as I am now, I couldn't tell you. I usually just brush it off as him being someone who knows who they are and what they want. I doubt it though. I still don't know who I am. I still have the chance to be whoever I want. And so does he. It makes me sad that he might not have that experience until it's too late, and it turns into a mid-life crisis and collateral damage ensues. Then again, he could go on the rest of his life, pleased with the decisions he's made about himself, and who he chose to love, and how he chose to live. Maybe I'm just projecting my fears. But I don't fear my unknown self...
Part II
I know I still love him. Something is still there. I wish terribly that I knew how to make it go away, but I don't. He probably couldn't pull that emotion up if he wanted to, because I suspect it was never really there. Loving him is a form of personal torture that I periodically subject myself to when questioning my sanity, which is more often that I'd like. After a while though, I realized that all the love in the world won't make anything work. There are a lot of things that can get in the way of love, overshadow it, and even push it into complete obsolescence. He is my mystery, my anomaly, and I'm learning to live with it in order to move forward and be truly happy.
Part III
I tend to write about the past, but he is not my past. He is my right now and I don't really know how to describe us because we have been lucky enough not to encounter love just yet. I like that I just like him. That's it, and right now it's more than enough. He doesn't rush me, us. He is damaged, and I am damaged, and that could be great and terrible and I am completely okay with that fact. I enjoy learning him, so much. And I'm learning that even if tomorrow never comes, that I have him today, and that's enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
