Dear Dreamer,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that no one loved you the way you loved them.
I'm sorry no one stood up for you when you needed it, like how you did for them. He never got the prison sentence he deserved.
He never moved on from you. He knew he could never replace you, and yet he hurt you, and I apologize.
They never reciprocated their feelings, even after you poured your heart into them.

I'm sorry that you recognized their footsteps and had to live in fear.
They didn't fight for you when you needed it, but blamed you, and for that, I'm sorry.
They told you that you were the "troublemaker" and the "angry daughter", but why were you angry?
I'm sorry that they crushed your dreams, Dreamer.

I'm sorry that you had to leave.
I'm sorry that they talked about you behind your back, insulting your name.
They destroyed everything you've ever touched and spread nasty lies about you.
I'm sorry that they altered the truth, the same truth you wished people had heard.

I'm sorry that they had tried to crush the hope and heartbeat of a child.
They turned your blazing fire into a simmering ash, and it was almost fully diminished.
But you kept it burning nonetheless, and you kept dreaming.
So though I am sorry that I wasn't always there, I was always hopeful.
Keep dreaming, My Dreamer.

Best Regards,
You <3

I am comfortable inside my head,
invisible borders,
self-imposed rules.

They keep me safe.
An illusion of security.

But when the walls
inevitably
close in on me,
there’s nowhere to run.

Trapped inside this fragile paper cage.
Nothing keeps me in,
yet everything does.

Bound
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 14-15

Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of the streetlamp casts strange shadows to the ground,
I have lost what I once found
in your arms.

Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of distant Venus fails to penetrate dark panes,
I have remade all my chains
and am bound.

Published as “Why Did I Go?” in my high school journal the Lantern in 1976. I have made slight changes here and there, but the poem is essentially the same as what I wrote in my early teens.

It's our secret bed,

there in the dark, where we live --


dreaming together.