That child of my youth
Lies now in her bed
As she always did
Covers pulled up to keep her warm
But she is thin and frail
As she was as a young girl
The safety of the bed though
Evades her
As it always did
The things underneath
Still haunt her
And have become real
Those shadowed horrors from below
Have come to claim her
Tubes are snaked like vines
Around her
Invading her
Covering her like an ancient ruin
Finding every crevice to crawl into
A young woman
Now old
The road maps on her skin
Traced not by time and experience
But by tragedy and chance,
Cruel blows that glanced
From her guarding arms
She will never know laugh lines
Burned into her skin by a million smiles
Those smiles will never come
They will only be bitter sweet ones
smiled by us
As we talk about old times
Laughing into the night
With worn grins
And Tired eyes
And the lines will be etched
Into our faces instead
What we measure in decades
She measures out in minutes
Hours are years
And days stretch into decades
Every moment is now measured into a cup
Metered and parceled
On a glowing monitor
The poor girl who never had a chance
Still doesn’t
And never will
It is such a shame
She is such as a sweet girl
And she has such soft hands
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
That child of my youth
Lies now in her bed
As she always did
Covers pulled up to keep her warm
But she is thin and frail
As she was as a young girl
The safety of the bed though
Evades her
As it always did
The things underneath
Still haunt her
And have become real
Those shadowed horrors from below
Have come to claim her
Tubes are snaked like vines
Around her
Invading her
Covering her like an ancient ruin
Finding every crevice to crawl into
A young woman
Now old
The road maps on her skin
Traced not by time and experience
But by tragedy and chance,
Cruel blows that glanced
From her guarding arms
She will never know laugh lines
Burned into her skin by a million smiles
Those smiles will never come
They will only be bitter sweet ones
smiled by us
As we talk about old times
Laughing into the night
With worn grins
And Tired eyes
And the lines will be etched
Into our faces instead
What we measure in decades
She measures out in minutes
Hours are years
And days stretch into decades
Every moment is now measured into a cup
Metered and parceled
On a glowing monitor
The poor girl who never had a chance
Still doesn’t
And never will
It is such a shame
She is such as a sweet girl
And she has such soft hands
For Amber
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