in shiny black shoes,
with tiny knee highs
things were different,
life was simple
people were scary
my friends,
my interests
were imaginary.

four little walls
sealed with a door
whispers and giggles
stuffed plushies
strewn along the floor.
looking you in the eye
struck me with fear
raising your tone
twisting your face
into disgust
disappointment
or simply blind rage
made me want to melt
deep
into the contents of the floor.

when I grew older
I felt I was stronger,
the will to cry
when I looked into your eyes
was suppressed much longer.
my friends,
once imaginary,
started having faces
going by names
like Susan
or Gary.

the little flower
still waiting to bud
began to bloom
to blossom
to develop new fears
from choosing
the right spot
on the
big
blue
rug,
to rejection
in my high school years.

now
here I rest,
in a dormitory bed
short, velvet hair
spread across the pillows
night after night
snuggled close
to my plushies
picked up from the old
floor.
nightmares,
night terrors
panic attacks
low-self esteem.
a smile on the outside
isn't as it seems.
I may grow older
may shut off my
emotions,
grow colder,
seem stronger,
the strength not to cry
lasts longer,
I still am that little girl,
that moonchild
sitting
waiting
eager to burst through.
ready to expose
my weaknesses
like moonlight
upon the river.