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Feb 2015
I’ve grown far too large for the other half
of our once-shared trundle bed
the drawer, open every night
has been shut
a store bought out by big money
and even bigger boys

If I look hard enough,
I can still spy the specks of glitter you left on my windowsill
one here, two a couple months later
not enough to lift me off the ground
not enough to call you back through my curtains

I didn’t want to go, it wasn’t me
I wasn’t the one who thought this would work
You said
You said you’d come back
“spring cleaning”
only emptied me

I cringe with every tick of the clock
and you’d throw it out the glass door just to watch time fly
but what they never told you was
time doesn’t have wonderful thoughts to think
it only has seconds to take, minutes to die

You’ve grown far too small to have your eyes look in mine
too often rimmed red, purple, gray
you stayed the same while the world changed
you stopped time
you couldn’t stop me

I want my arms to reach you
my heart couldn’t take it
if you cried and thrashed away,
how I know you would

so here my arms are
holding myself
as I fall apart
on a bed far too small
for a girl
for too broken
to be much more than
a clock with a cracked face
and shaking hands
alone night childhood peter pan
Vanessa Abplanalp
Written by
Vanessa Abplanalp  Indianapolis
(Indianapolis)   
487
   mark cleavenger, r and Emily Tyler
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