I yearn for the girl I used to be.

The girl who used to care about her studies.
The girl who used to write poetry.
The girl who used to sing confidently.
The girl who used to paint vividly.
The girl who used to love freely.
The girl who used to care deeply.

I do not care about my studies (as much).
I do not write poetry (as much).
I do not sing confidently (as much).
I do not paint vividly (as much).
I do not love freely (as much).
I do not care deeply (as much).

The intensity has passed on,
to younger generations,
to newer beings,
to fresh souls,
with more to live for,
with more to care for,
and with more to prepare for,
than I.

For I am old,
and I will continue to do the things I love,
but not with the passion,
but not with the love,
but not with the care,
but not with the confidence,
but not with the freedom,
that I once had.

f.m.s.

I want to dance with you
in the moon light,
when the time is right.

I want to dance with you
when you're loving me,
when you're carefree.

I want to dance with you
all day, all night,
until we see the sun light.

I want to dance with you
until you get tired of me,
'til you can no longer see.

I want to dance with you,
for all of
e t e r n i t y .

f.m.s.

I want you to imagine fixing a watch, all the tiny little parts
And I want you to imagine fixing a watch with broken hands
An overly involved metaphor for the idea that you can’t fix someone else when you yourself are broken

I fell in love with this image of drugs and ***** and rock and roll
And the reckless way you lived your life despite the fragility
When I found myself broken I spent years picking up shards of glass and trying to put them back together
You swallowed yours with a bottle of whiskey and marched on

I think you’ve always seen me as someone who could fix you
I’ve never been able to do that
And that’s why you come back whenever you feel like killing yourself or you’ve finally decided that you want someone to come home to that doesn’t live inside a bottle

I’m still picking up glass
I wish I could love you enough to fix you
But I won’t ever be waiting for you at home
There’s too much glass
There’s not enough time

Even if I could find a way to go back and fix that watch I can’t use it to turn back time
We’re here right now
And my hands are broken
Everything is

I miss you
and not even in the way that I should
not even in the way that you've been away from me
not even in the way that we've been apart.

you've been right next to me.
but I'm all alone.
I spent all day with you,
but I spent all day alone.

f.m.s.

You said you'd always love me.
And you never did.
You said you'd always be there.
And you never were.
You said you'd help me get through life.
And you never helped at all.

My only question is "how?"

How did you manage to aid in my creation,
stand there in the hospital room when I was born,
hold me when I was only a child,
and then leave me?

How could you sit in a jail cell,
knowing I was alone,
without a father,
without anyone to even model one for me?

How could you repeat your mistakes,
knowing how much it would affect me,
knowing how much it would affect my mother,
and my younger sister?

How could you leave me alone,
without a care in the world,
without a meaningful existence in my life,
without the slightest feeling of love from you?

Was I a reminder of your long lost youth?
Did I threaten your freedom?

You're supposed to embrace that your era is over,
that it was time to let your kingdom fall.

When you have a child,
you're supposed to love them.
I never felt that from you.
Instead, you left.


I thought I was over this,
writing about you,
missing you,
crying because you'll never love me like you should.

I guess some feelings just never die down,
especially not abandonment from someone
who's never supposed to leave you.

Most girls my age share stories of how their fathers
taught them how to fix cars,
or threatened to **** the boy who took their virginity.
The only thing I have to share of you is your never ending abandonment, sorriness, and the resentment I have for you because of them.

They think I'm crazy,
to hate the man who made me.

It's not crazy,
it's just justice.

f.m.s.