I have my secrets
Hidden within a trove
Not even a glance has been aimed
Toward my box full of pain
Not a single soul
Has looked through it
I have my secrets
Wrapped up in white linen
And tossed in silk
The most beautiful things
Cover the darkest of feelings
As I drift away within my sorrow
Over my belittled existence
I heard a little cry
And so, I look to my left
Then my right
A little girl stood quietly
I caught her within the corner of my eye
She was recognizable; she was me
She grasped my hand and lead me toward a light
"It's time to let me go" she voiced soft as thyme
How could I let you go?
You are so broken
So bruised
You won't make it without me
"Please" she cried, "let me go" her eyes swelled with heartache
I let her hand drop from mine
And I shifted toward the light
Easy does it, one foot
Then the other
A soft whine echoed
I turned to look behind
And there that little girl sat
Shrunk and small
Hidden beneath the curtain fall
I grabbed for her
"It's not our time" I voiced strong
Carefully we walked away
The light dimming before disappearing
I held her as the light I needed left
I sat back within the closet
Dark and dreary
I held her as I mourned
That childhood I often longed
Alas, it was too late
My Innocence, already gone
I cried once more
"Oh, little me one day you'll be free"
I'm 15
She's 3
And neither of us are free
I wonder when that will be.
YOU ARE READING
Where The Grass Grows
PoetryA poetry collection about life & death, love, loss, & grief. Written through the lens of a 15-17-year-old girl. These poems are a collection of my story. Take care of them. They mean the world to me.
