manuel of la brea

35

graduation picture

It’s sad I didn’t make most of the times with you in the coming-of-age ceremony. Sharing smiles and hopes for the future we aim to discover like a fool—it didn’t matter to me.

I forgot the last time I woke up early. I wasn’t even listening to the marching band play. Standing in line without my mother and on the back of my head I wished not to see you.

The ceremony starts and you came to me. I didn’t speak much as the time moved in like a slideshow yet I heard you whisper, “I love you.” And it continued to burn my cheeks throughout the show.

You noticed the winter lipstick coating my lips. You noticed my long blonde hair and my messy bangs. But I was focused on splitting hair.

We never had a picture of our first success together, yet I had the clearest image of your mother. I regret not to tell her about me.

Receiving the diploma alone, I remember you standing in the crowded room. And I wish to see myself in your eyes. And I wish to say forgiveness and mercy. And I wish to hear you scream my name again.

But even if I scream out loud, you won’t even want to hear.

I walked on that stage and walked away, never coming back.

Now staring at my graduation picture, memories of that day haven’t made it to my wall.