Lonely... I'm so lonely
When the clock struck twelve on that silent night
Emotions befell me that caused quite a fright
Sadness and anger
A glimpse of the past
Regret for the days that just couldn't last
I felt like a failure, a reject, a mess
A desolate child stuck in distress
That's who I was
And that's who I'll be
A forever lonely child
Lost in misery

We said we’d never stop believing
in fairies,
in kindness,
in return phone calls.

We swore we’d never
become like them.
The adults
with milky eyes
and calendars
and knives
they only use for mail.

You said we’d grow up
but stay soft.
Like peaches.
Like lullabies.

You pulled your own tooth out
in second grade
just to see if the blood felt like something.
It didn’t.
But you didn’t say that out loud.

I held your hand
and told you it meant
you were brave.

You said the tooth fairy would bring you
everything you circled
in The American Girl Catalog.
You got two dollars
and a cavity.
Welcome to Earth.

I still have some of my baby teeth
rattling around in a film canister,
in the same box as my First Communion Dress
and my Princess Diana Beanie Baby.

I thought I was just saving pieces.
I never knew which parts of girlhood
were meant to be disposable.

As if saving them
meant I hadn’t lost
the rest.

Before the crows sit
on the scarecrow,
I'll have you in remembrance
the path we used to walk.
I feel as if you are in my
aunt's house, being a symbol
illuminating the house.
When I sit alone, the absence
speaks you are alive, but I
had seen the grave.
I cry my heart out on
the bed, will you ever come back?
If your spirit dwells in our genes,
can you still embrace me in your arms?
Oh, my maternal grandma, I miss
your presence, like the old days,
even if I feel you are here.

My stomach does that thing—
you know, when the ghost
rests a hand there.
Not a hit.
Just a hush,
and fingernails.

Like it never left.
Like I’m the one
who forgot to feed it.

It’s always at dawn.
Or mid-laugh.
Or in line at the dollar store—
buying nail polish I’ll chew off by Tuesday
and an eyelash curler,
just in case he sees me
from across a decade.

Then you paraglide in—
a salesman who knew I’d be home.
And the floor remembers
what I worked so hard to forget.

And I gasp—like I tripped.
But I didn’t.
I remembered.

I remembered
the ghost
you left me to raise alone.

Like:
“Hi. Just passing through.
Don’t stress on my behalf.”

I nod.
And I don’t.
I keep chewing the same nail.
My eyelashes are curled.
My stomach still does that thing.

You know the one.

I had a dream, I wonder why,
It was you, yes you,
Though veiled in fog, I knew, it was you,
Felt real, felt warm, felt love, because it was you.

Hmmmm, you were humming, made me sleepy,
Your aroma made me feel at home,
The green jacket suits you, your smile suits you,
You came closer to me, and yes, it was you.

I heard you say my name, the nickname,
You looked me in the eyes, I wonder why I cried,
I wanted to hug you, but I couldn't,
It was a dream, but I'm sure it was you.

It's a song, sung for you.

I yearn for the freedom of a bird, soaring high above the mundane,
Yearning to break free from the constraints of the grounded world.
When did the spark of imagination flicker and die?
Leaving behind a monotonous existence?

I long for the carefree days of carnival rides and cotton candy,
The thrill of the wind stealing my breath as the roller coaster swoops down the track.
I remember the awe-inspiring spectacle of fireworks,
Not the passive indifference that once filled me,
But the vibrant colors that danced in the sky,
Not muted and mildly annoying.

I crave the excitement of skipping school,
Feeling the rebellious spirit coursing through my veins as I run up and down the halls,
Instead of the tiptoeing and begging that now characterize my days.
I yearn to experience the fluttering of butterflies,
The nervousness of a first kiss,
And the pit of my throat clenching with the fear of asking a crush out.

Where did that innocent anxiety disappear?
When did imagination succumb to monotony?

I miss the simple, crude drawings I used to create world-building,
The comics of my own design and mind,
Characters rich with backstories and lives of their own.
Now, I struggle to put pen to paper,
I wonder if my words ever truly resonate.

Do they understand me?
Was I ever truly understood?
How I wish I could start over, grow in a way that doesn’t **** my garden,
But there’s no rewind.
I could wish on every four-leaf clover, but that’s not enough.

As I watch them fly overhead,
I can’t help but feel a sense of envy and longing.
I yearn to be them, carefree and clinging to the freedom that seems to elude me.
The air rustling through their feathers,
Taking me away into the ether is a tantalizing reminder of what I could’ve had.