Kids ride down the street,
On razor scooters and bicycles
As I am reminded again
Of the childhood I missed out on.
Of the childhood that was stolen from me.

I remember our small house,
In a large neighborhood,
Filled with adults and children alike.
And how, although we lived together,
My parents never felt like family.

I remember playing with the other kids,
Running through houses and yards,
Creating our own games, our own stories.
Pretending to be cowboys, or astronauts;
Anything we were not.

I remember the fights.
Screaming and yelling and slamming doors,
The brutal, tear-filled aftermaths,
Harsh words that could not be unsaid.
My bruises, her bruises, his bruises.

I remember the first time it really snowed.
My fondest memory; icy and unforgiving.
We had built an army, one under our command,
Snowmen dressed with coal eyes and carrot noses.
We thought - hoped - that they could protect us.

I remember my parents,
I remember the cold nights and long days.
I think, if I could see them again
I would thank them for my memories.
Even the not-so-great ones.

I remember my childhood.
I remember my “family”.
I remember our neighbors, and their children.
I remember the fun, the fights, the fear.
I remember thinking: “is this how’s it’s supposed to be?”

These memories have engrained themselves in my mind,
Things I can never forget
This childhood that was supposed to be mine.
Yeah, I remember;
And I wish I could get it all back.

His music was my undoing.
Engraved in both heart and head,
It was a cry; 'Wait for me',
A promise not yet spoken,
A promise I thought was to me

So I waited for him,
Whom I had loved above all else.
Maybe it was because
That’s where he believed himself to be;
Above all else.

I waited, as his song asked,
Until my bed was cold,
Reminding me of the hole he left,
And the silence previously filled with his words,
Smooth as honey, and just as sweet

As I waited, I was reminded
Of the way he moved his hands,
Of the way he spoke his words,
Of the way he parted his lips.
Singing a silent lullaby only I could hear

No one could replace him,
For the hurricane in his eyes,
The storm of greys and blues,
Had ripped my resolve to shreds.
But I knew that the storm was for me,

Solace eluded me, unable to be found
In neither myself nor another.
When it wasn't his touch, soft like petals
Petals that withered in his absence,
Ready to bloom again at his return

My entire world faded to grey,
His words no longer bringing it color,
Because I couldn't fathom,
Any other way to hear about those colors,
Than from the songs that left his mouth.

In the end I thought I would be fine,
Living in a world without him,
Standing on my own two feet
But I have lost my balance and fallen
His music no longer there to catch me