visions

nostalgia of apathy

once upon a time there was a little girl

who lived in this house; a little girl with

big brown eyes and beautiful brown curls

and a heart the size of the sun that she

wore, unguarded, on her sleeve. the world

was her friend, and more importantly, she

was the world's friend. with nothing more

than a sweet smile and the fresh fragile

innocence of a young child, she was a

friend of all things. everything was good,

and there was love in her existence.

at least, that's how i think she was.

her image is rather lost now, a smattering

of dusty photographs and too-small

sweaters and toys that all once

had names. there are coloring books

that bring back memories through the

form of odd smells, there are the

life-stained toys and blankets from

her past. but it's not enough to bring her back.

have you ever tried to raise the dead?

and i don't mean the biological dead, i mean

that spiritually dead, the ones who peer at

you with eyes rimmed with the blackness

of a thousand sleepless nights and whose

hearts radiate the sickness of a broken soul.

i mean the ghosts of our past, the rooms

that we don't go into because that's where

they were and their prescence is there but

you choose to ignore it. you choose to ignore it

because you know it's never going to be

enough to bring her back. she is gone.

maybe she is only gone into the depths

of past and recorded time, but none

the less, she is gone. and whatever you

try to do, you cannot bring her back.

i've tried, so hard i've tried. i've put on

her sweater and sat in her chair, i've listened

to her songs and played with her toys.

i have tried to take the same amount of

satisfaction in everything as she once did

and i find i cannot. she was a simpler

creature, one who was immature but

one who was innocent and had never

known any worse pain than that one

time where a wasp stung her in the

center of her right palm. she'd never

had her heart broken. she'd never

given her heart to someone for them

to break, for that matter. and this girl,

this poor beautiful girl... she's lost.

dear child, my daughter via time,

i am so sorry for what you have become.