Perhaps those childhood memories I think of so often, are not has happy as I think. |
I remember, being too little to reach up to the stars and standing on my tippy-toes when did growth mean obtaining scars? When did I stop fitting into my favorite shoes? Like how I no longer fit into my home taste of sweetness churned on my tongue and childhood memories became unknown to ease the hunger and feed on the young. I remember, spending hours playing hide and seek it's been years, and no one has found me what did I look for in every nook and creak It is not what hid, but what I couldn't see. I remember, growing taller than the apple trees and the fruits lost their flesh and seed girlhood became saltier than the many seas and pink youth passed by the first bleed and that little girl lies within my heart and she constantly pushes me through my battle yet I hear her shattering and tearing apart at every sign of getting caught in a scramble I remember, when hands did not seem so daunting bodies and minds bare of impurity and now those hands ease me into haunting my womanhood is a pavement for insanity. I remember, but perhaps my memories are scrapped and my version of childhood has warped. |