She sits stressing,
depression pressing
sharp silver metal
into her skin,

leaves adults stuttering
and wondering
what is so wrong with her,
while looking down with
disappointment.

How strangely that lately
they forget
how intense
it felt
when they were kids.

Its like intentional amnesia
as they try to numb
any primal passions,
dulling their once
delinquent delights,
quelling the yelling curiosity
in favor of
a less passionate
drunken love.

But she has not yet succumbed
to that humdrum
self-inflicted
emotional wound
that is draining
yellow liquid,
oozing
that which is
conflicted
that which
we should be using
to understand
everyone else.

Teenage heartaches
and high school drama,
friendships lost
or changed
drastically,
with all the pain
it leaves,
she is set in
an ocean of confusion.

So, at night she lays her face
in a salt wet pillow case
as she cries
herself to sleep,
instead of ending her week
at the bar down the street
like her parents do
just to get through
their working blues.

Watching videos
from youtube
and reading poetry books,
she still dreams of more,
uses her art to explore
hopes and dreams,
while her parents seem
to exist hopelessly.

When the silence comes
she sits disquieted
as dark thoughts
settle like sandy sediment,
then float up
like all that flotsam
from the wreckage
of her young
sea sailing heart.

Her parent don’t
have a clue
how much she is going through
and sometimes
she doesn’t believe
that they even try to.

If I want you to continue reading,
Then I must be truthful and forthright.
That's my decision.
And I'm good at deciding stuff.

One time I decided to change
My mailing address, have my mail
Redirected for a personal reason.
Another time, I decided to impersonate
My brother in court.
I didn't say all decisions were good ones.
So, allow your imagination to comply as I tell this story...

Did I mention I've a very active imagination.
More profound than my decision making skills.
    
     There's a young boy, on the verge of adulthood,
     aged twelve, and he often stays out all night...

Okay, I'll tell the truth. The boy is me.
But you probably already knew that,
Didn't you?

     On arriving home one morning,
     He comes upon an unusually locked
     back door, but he can hear the TV and
     the dog whinning. The Mercury is idling
     in the driveway. The trunk ajar...

My imagination is messing with the truth.
There is no open trunk, but the curtain blowing
Out my parents' main floor bedroom window is true.

     The idea of my having a key to the house is silly.
     That would mean eight keys with kids that know
     nothing about locks and keys. We were free to run,
     uninhibited, all adventure, no phones, little radio,
     and a TV that hardly ever worked. So, no key. To my
     right, I notice the frill laced curtain flapping out my
     parents' bedroom window.
     Open? Do I dare?

I've always been known for my recklessness and lack of foresight.
So I turned towards their window...

The system wants to stop me
But it harps on "you do you"
They say do what you love
Set your sights on the moon above

And alas, should you miss the moon,
You will land among the stars
But what's that worth if I land among them
And I still can't hide my scars

I don't want cuts, I don't want burns
I want to seize the life that I yearn
But every corner's a dead end, a no place
Only choice is a path with no turns

So my favorite time of the day turns to sleeping
Behind closed eyelids is where I can see
The life that I want and shall work for
I will make my dreams reality

My parents are away, we can go
to bed, but not even with an excuse

do I dare to go in the direction
of my room with you

or take your hand without
saying anything, because

do you want it to, and what face
should I have? That's why

a whole line of neighbours are our witnesses
that we let fly the thought of naked kisses

and lightly floating in love
with full attention

we alternately strike it off
playing badminton

in the sweet smell of summer flowers

I often wonder about my own origin
I wonder how much of me is from just one woman
I also wonder if I am anything like the man
Does my DNA from her make me the good student I am
Does it explain my ever present sarcasm and attitude
I wonder if we have the same personality or mood
I wonder about my appearance and hers
Does her hair also fall down her back or shape her curves
Does it reflect in the same golden way that mine does
Does she also let hers grow too long just because

I know you from online
And from the few files I find
Is my height, or lack thereof, from you?
(After all, I'm only five foot two)
Do all my half siblings know of me, or just you?
Do you talk to my father? Does he want to meet too?

I meet you this week
17 years or 6,463 days
Not a moment too late
A reunion like an awkward first date
I was told to "expect nothing" from it
That I can easily call to just quit
But I know more everyday that I am ready
I want my family tree to be a little less webby

I want you to know I am not mad
I do not cry because I am sad
You are the reason I live the life I have
I cannot be more grateful for that

I understand the choice you made
That raising me was a price you had to pay
Your past is not something to regret
The questions I have are nothing to fret
You might fear the how's and why's
But they're the last thing on my mind
I just want to meet you for you
And to thank you for giving me the chance to live anew

Unbounded powers to shake up the world
An eternal passenger riding it's waves
Into the wild soon shall you be hurled
To find a harbor spirit of life craves

Fate's dangerous game of lost and found
Step into the world of paths unexplored
Let your soul sing and behold her sound
Courage and hope will lead you to shore

Climbing to the top is the greatest game
Meaning of top only bound by your dreams
Let spark of your life shine with brightest flame
Weave threads of the universe or burst through the seams

I walk to the places
We never went with each other
I talk about the things
I never talked about with you
I feast without you by my side
Never once thinking of you
Until now

Ne’er before had mortality
Seemed so bleak and grim
Until I laid upon
Not your visage; pale and fair
But your casket bedecked with petals
Thinking about the light
Cast out to where your future should have been
Instead of eight feet underground

I bluster
As I try to understand
The change of fate
The whims and cruelties
Of people I don’t know
Even you

The one whom I cried for
And still continue to cry for
Because I cannot articulate
How two lovers perish
In such fateful wreckage

I think of from where I had come
And from where I must go
Periphery, you were
Periphery, you remain
Except when tears line my eyes
As I realise that the future
Isn’t as predictable as I thought

I will never hold your baby
In my arms
And you will never hold mine
But that is the domestic writing
Thinking about the future
So cloudy and grey
Even when I hold onto roses so stiffly

Roses that I must,
I am afraid,
Lay at your head and feet
Whilst you sleep within the earth
And will never take breath again
Not to sing or laugh
Like you did when we were children

When we still went to the same places
And still talked about the same things
And ate next to one another
Never thinking
The future would quite be like this
Never thinking we would be caught
In the fray of fate as things turn out
So wrong and so sad

But I continue to think of things
I could have said when you were alive
When I didn’t cherish your presence
Because memories are so easily
Made and forgotten
But please take them all
And I will continue to give
All these unspoken words you
In flower bouquets and poetry

For that is all I have
To remember you by,
My dear ailurophobe
Named grace twice
Fitting as you feel twice buried
So, I bid you farewell
With this to part us
But you will never leave my thoughts
Even as I stray along the path
And am subject to fates we never imagined