you've been my best friend since i can remember. you patched up all my cuts and kissed my bruises. you brushed my hair, even if you pulled it and made me weep. you baked bread for my sandwiches when we couldn't afford a loaf, because you knew how much i loved salami sandwiches in my school lunches. you took me shopping even when you were drowning in bills and responsibilities and adult things that i couldn't understand as a child. you yelled at me and frustrated me and made me lock myself away for hours at a time, but you had my best interest at heart. you held me and carried me to bed when i fell asleep in your arms on the couch, until i got too heavy to carry anymore, and you would wake me with a gentle shake. you cried with me on that couch while we watched titanic and ate stale popcorn. you let me play dress up in your closet, even if you weren't too fond of a six-year-old ruining your party dresses and high heels. you always let me finish your food, even if you were still starving and there was nothing else to eat. you've sacrificed everything you had for me. i've never known a life without you. i'm an extension of all of your goods and bads and neutrals and i just hope you can love me for it, even if you're not too fond of yourself. but i love me because i am you.

oh to be young again, sitting on the cracked pavement and counting the cars with chalk-stained hands. scraping our knees on the gravel because mom always said i was clumsy, even with my best shoes on. fishing in the creek and falling in headfirst. the afternoon sun rays were full of love, and oh how my little heart took it for granted. i wasn't aware of the ache i would feel as i grew older. the yearning for the bee stings and the dirt caked on my feet and the hide-and-go-seek games after dark. i'd like to think i left part of my soul there, a little girl wandering in the woods trying to make all of it last. it left me too soon, and i don't know if the sun rays still have love for me.

i’ll find you here, on the tip of my tongue, 3 words aching to be spoken. looking out, i can see it now, all immoral words and actions drained by the poignant roses in your garden. a garden that bellows and demands to be seen, pulsing bright, a labyrinthine bed made for the most affable souls. every part of it was you—the welcoming hug of dew drops on scarlet petals, golden light spilling into shadows but never dulling. the nipping of thorns didn’t bother me, for i was numb with the thought of becoming yours.