I grew up here
It looks the same
Smells the same
Sounds the same
But feels so different
It's haunted by a happiness long forgotten
Where wind and sea guided a little girl into a world of fantasy
Where the humidity didn't get to me
This place is haunted now
With memories of the dead and forgotten alike
When I look at my mothers room now a relic she has left unclaimed
I see a bed,
And I see not only her in it
I see a man too unlike the one I know now
I wonder
Was she alone in the bed before or after he turned in to them monster?
It's almost as this place is a time capsule with a leak
The past stays frozen in old movies on the floor and art projects made in grade school
In the onesies worn by little boys now nearing little men
I mourn those little boys
I mourn the little girl too
The little girl who walked these halls stands out in every room
She runs from room to room looking for what happened
She sits in a small corner reading a book too short to be called a novel
She looks out from the dock to the water,
Longing just for things to stay this way forever
When I see her neither of us know each other
We walk past each other
Her pleading for an explanation
I, try to remember subjectively
The rooms are still here
The books still on the shelf
I know the titles but the content has blown away with time
The water still calls us
The little girl and I
It's seems only on the small doc that her and I can grasp each others existence
Maybe that's why
I choose to only come back
To see the water.
YOU ARE READING
Button Jar II
PoetryA collection of poems form college and a continual from my first collection written in high school. These poems are meant to be spoken poems so if the seem a bit strange to read that's why.
