Wings

To the little girl buried inside me

I'm sorry for losing you when it hit me

Reality is always unexpectedly

Neglected

by the people we never expect to see.

I've been writing you apology letters since I was 10,

this first one sounding like

"I miss hearing your laugh."

But these days they sound more like

"I miss your carelessness

and ability to be free

from the grip of gossiping girl

grounded like trees only to grow up to see

who can be the tallest.

I miss the long days we spent picking flowers

for your blue bear,

your favorite stuffed bear.

I miss being able to smile

and mean it,

being able to wear shorts sleeves

and not worry. Being able to not listen to the screech of insecurity

and not worry.

I miss being able to see the three bruises on her left check

and be confused because now

I'm not.

I miss having friends who I knew would be here tomorrow.

Being able to not worry

if my friends would make it to tomorrow.

Being able to see myself living

for tomorrow.  

To the little girl lost inside of me, I'm setting you free. 

But you see thankfully

this Edgar Allen Poe tree has been growing inside of me,

rooting like veins in my feet

and I am an exotic tree

constantly moving.

Yet his raven wouldn't be so proud to know

I broke my wings, but I had a feeling the Poe was breaking down.

I feel so guilty to be connected to ink on a page

but that is all that he left for what I hope is

someone like me.

The girl buried inside of me was only his biggest fear.

I burned her breathe

to smoke out the other options of living.

I divorced the idea of being happy

before we had our anniversary.

I'm so sorry

but I want all the books

you can take the money.

The little girl inside of me wants to find the word to not worry.

Careless

she thought,

I want to be care free