there's something eerie in reinvention.
i have no memory of you,
so i've made you a woman built on gentle force.
i've rewrote what i can't have,
filling the pages with the homey grip of a childhood gaze-
the romantic tone of a giggling girl.
i watch you close the fireplace gate,
and drape the quilt over my shoulders.
you've taken my hand,
and led me to my bed,
telling me the morning will greet me kindly-
because i am loved and the sun can sense it.
and my world was filled with surprise pancake breakfasts.
we danced witlessly in the kitchen to my favorite song,
and you'd laugh about how similar we really were-
how beautifully i fit your image,
just as if god took a rib from you and created me.
i have chosen to write novels of what we never had-
and brace this autumn storm with a fictitious, happy heart.
because the leaves in your yard have seemingly been unmoved from 6 autumns ago,
and will likely keep their post for 6 more.
i hope that when you're teeth chatter you consider me.
and how you left me out for cold-
forgetting the warm tile of our fireplace.
you aren't a memory, now.
you are a mere feeling being cloaked by the yearning of a misplaced child.
so if you think of me,
be gentle now.
YOU ARE READING
speak softly
Poetryyou speak until your breath gives out, and the shallow huffs of words they never heard beg to be buried; but live on in the sidewalks. - - - prose/poetry
