I'm scared of missing things,
Or more, I'm scared to lose something,
Especially if I have lived my whole life with it as a fact of my being, I can't imagine it just leaving me like that,
I still hold on to my childhood, firm fingers grasping at fleeting innocence,
And joy,
When I was younger and my first sister was leaving, I told her I was going to get a golden birdcage, and keep her in there, so she couldn't leave me,
Then, just this summer, before my second sister left
Again
She reminded me of that
I had all but forgotten,
She was laughing, the expectations of joy and love and future adventures written across her face,
And I laughed with her, told her the same thing,
But I was only half joking,
And when we got home, I went into my room, curled up into a ball,
And cried,
Not cried myself to sleep,
I haven't been getting as much of that lately,
I just cried,
But I'm also scared there are things I'll never get,
No one has ever really loved me,
Known me so well they could make me smile, or break,
But always picked smile,
And I can never tell with people anyway,
I wish a poet would love me, and it would be so easy,
Because they would tell me, in their beautiful words, and I would tell them,
And we could just hold hands and smile wherever we go,
Because we know we have someone to love us, to take care of us,
But I don't know,
People aren't always honest,
And I've been sitting in this dark room for so long,
In this uncomfortable position,
But if I move now, it'll just feel sore,
And if I walk into the light now,
It'll just hurt my eyes,
And what difference would it really make anyway