We made a promise.
Not just any promise--a pinky promise.
We swore on our weakest finger a vow we would not dare to break.

Most don't understand why we would do such a childish thing.
Intertwining fingers. What promise could that bring?

They don't know our history.
Back in time--just you and me.

A promise between us has not once been kept.
It was cause for tears and heart ache that followed as we slept.

Giving our word doesn't mean a thing between us two.
So what is left for us to do?

Let's go back to a more innocent time.
A time when rain was just gum drops and kisses meant our mother.
You always searched for the best tree to climb.

Let's go back in time when everything was pure and good.
From this time we steal a simple thing.
Something long left behind in childhood.

Tiny fingers interlocking.
Nothing about it mocking.

Twelve years later I hold my finger out to you.
No need to be told what to do.

Our fingers touched once more.
The electricity practically lifts me off the floor.

Our pinkies ignited some new energy.
Energy I've misses between you and me.

For the last time I say, "Promise?"
Twined fingers. "Promise."

Pinkie promise.



-----------------------------------------------------­------------------------

This one's pretty rough. I might make adjustments at a later time.

Often, the worlds starts to dim at the edges and I realize that I forgot to breath.
You were passage to my lungs and allowed oxygen into my blood.

At times, I forget what I look like--assuming I'm a cross between a troll and a haggard witch.
You were my mirror reflecting bright lights so the glare of the glass could blind me to imperfections.

I frequently don't know what to say when a sarcastic teacher howls into my ear.
You were my voice, powerful and sure.

Sometimes, I get light headed and shaky with an empty tummy angered by my neglect.
You were my mother, calling me to supper.

What I never had to think about before, now, seems so difficult.
Someone changed the controls and the instructions are in Korean.
What are these symbols? I can't even google them because the keys to my laptop don't have any of those shapes.
It wouldn't matter anyway because it seems to be melded shut.
Maybe my hands are weak because you were my strength.

Life without you is easy--simple.

But I've forgotten how to live this way.
Like a 49 year old man in his 16 year old daughter's math class. The class he had once taken and passed with flying colors now is nothing but nonsense.

Even after 2 years of being away from you, I long to know you once more.

Unfortunately we're not pieces of the same puzzle anymore.
Or perhaps we never were?

Maybe that's why we clashed over and over. Repeating the process until I was tossed aside.

Your world is full and complete while I lie on a banana peel at the bottom of a ******* bin.

It pains me to see your picture finally completed and to know it was I who stopped production.
Next to you are spaces already filled in. I search for somewhere I can lie snuggly in.

No where. As I lay in the garbage I whisper , "It's not supposed to be like this."

This is how it's supposed to be.
Uninspired and lost.
Like someone threw me over a cliff and told me to fly.
I'm in need of things I never learned.
Or maybe the knowledge is there but it's buried beneath the birth dates of a thousand dead men.
I'm too old for this but too young for that.
Stop acting like a child.
You think you are so mature, don't you?
I thought this feeling would be left behind in my middle school halls
stuck in a dried and blackened piece of gum.
"You're an adult when you turn 18" is one of the biggest lies anyone will tell you.
I'm am now 18 and I can promise you I'm no less of a child than I was yesterday,
a week, a month, or a year before that.
Ill-prepared is an understatement.
In math they never told me how to balance a check book.
In English, never did they even bring up writing a resume.
Science danced around *** and why so much of this things in my text book conflicted with my bible.
They taught me how to memorize but never how to think.
They taught me how to listen but never how to talk.
They taught me how to do but never how to create.
They taught me how to write but never how to end a poem.