You might have seen them through the window,
a little girl pouting on the stool and her mother
behind her, deft fingers weaving the strands
together, chocolate hair in french braids and the
wrinkles in her blue gingham dress.

There is a beginning to everything.

Golden-hair boy, caramel colors glinting in the sun,
pieces that flopped over his eyes and plastered
themselves over his forehead when the wind blew
erratic. He wears t-shirts streaked with dirt and high-
water jeans half-rolled, half-bunched up to his knees.

She thought, I could love this boy.

They're in the field again, ankles itching under her
frilly socks and ants crawling over her shoes. He lets
one amble around on his finger while she studies him.
Holding it up to the light, all serious and squinting,
He whispers, "They are so small."

She remembers this field for a long time.

She points to his heart. This is where I live. He looks
at her skeptically, raises an eyebrow."Is it awfully
uncomfortable there?" She lets the silence grow while
the birds make conversation and smiles to herself when
she sees him listening too.

Sometimes it is cold, but then you remember me.

There are pieces of love scattered around this world.
I have been trying to find them, trying to arrange them
into a comprehensible hope. There's the field. There's the
beach. There's the little stream that carries us where we
need to go. There's you, in that one summer.

It's been so long, but I remember. I remember it perfectly.

She's making a daisy chain while he looks out over the
lake. Climb the tree for me. I want to see how high you
can go. Nearly breaking the branches with his weight, he
calls out, in the purest joy you've ever heard to this day.
"You should see this view!"

*I do.

Subtle vibrations.
Energy.
Exquisite sensations.
Energy.
A near perfect nirvana.
Energy.
Cleansing us like a sauna.
Energy.
Despite our bodies being of olden.
Energy.
Inside our bodies are golden.
Energy.
A swirl of red.
Energy.
In a cloud, this is our bed.
Energy.
A force to call your own.
Energy.
You body has reaped what it has sown.
Energy.

Among the crowd,
a stranger lurks.
He looks like them,
acts like them,
although,
he doesn’t feel like them.

The eyes in the street are all the same –
“I want someone to know my pain”.
Swimming among the sea of faces,
a ghost moves amongst them.

Taunted by memories of the past,
the rewiring of brain chemistry into a mess.
Voices of torture,
of pain, of sorrow,
the picking of decaying flesh.
What’s left?

Another face in the crowd,
Just another guy with a story,
No more or less special than
the blade of grass that’s underneath him.
Just another name in the wind.

The first time I saw him in 2 years all I could manage to choke out was "where do you stay" and "I'll pay you as soon as i can"
I dreamt of him that night. I dreamt of dew covering the ground, chlorine, and dead things. Dreams of sugarplum fairies danced around my head.
You know, they say "relit cigarettes never taste the same and that's all I've got to say about rekindling old flames" but I imagine you would taste like the last time I kissed you- salty.
Because as soon as our lips touched I started to cry. Because I knew it would be the last time. Because we were too young. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be with you again.
I wish I could roll you into a joint and get high off you. I wish you didn't talk like one of the bad guys, like a gangster.
I wish you never learned what it was like to be without me.

I remember relapsing on the floor of my mothers basement.
I still remember what it was like to feel my conscious
leave my body and
float into a complete world of
darkness.
There were no pretty patterns or
surreal hallucinations.
The bright light that everyone
spoke of
was not there
and I wondered
if I was to blame for it
being gone.

And at the same time,

I remember what it was like to wake up.
To see my mother, father,
brothers, sisters
and friends
standing over me.
Crying helplessly wondering if I would
ever be the same again.

I remember what it was like to look into their eyes.

And I remember what it was like to push every single one of them away.

I remember what it was like to argue and walk out on
the same people that said they would
always be there.

I remember because it was the only time in my life that I
truly didn’t care.

But here I am today.

Trying to find the words to make you believe
that I am a better man.

Here I am,
pulling truths from parts of me
that I have not visited in years.

But being transparent does not
******* me like it used to.

It motivates me more than
ever before.

This shaky,
raspy,
unattractive voice of mine
is all I have.

And by any means,

I am going to use it.

There’s only a few other things
I was put here to do.

And if speaking
even when I’m not
spoken to
somehow
saves my life,

then so be it.

Because I remember
what it was like to
keep everything bottled up
and how it got me
absolutely nowhere.

I remember being stepped on
and squashed
as if I did not matter.

I remember what it was like to have
no faith in myself
because that was what everybody
taught me to believe in.

That it was wrong to step out of line
if it meant losing friends or
loved ones.

And I believed them because I didn’t know
anything different.

I didn’t have any independence.
I didn’t have anything to stand for.
I was just a little kid,
four-foot-something,
trying to make it through
another day.

And for every night I prayed
for tomorrow not to come
to a God that I do not believe in,

it always came.

And even though this embodiment
of doubt,
that is my existence,
has never been a breeze-

I can only hope that it has been
worth fighting for.

That every day and every night
I spent hungover or
strung out on the floor
did not go in vain.

And all I can do now is work hard
every single day.

All I can do now is give every ounce
of energy that I have to
making a difference
on people that are going through
what I’ve been through;

to give someone a voice that is
comfortable and
familiar.

and despite the cliché,
maybe even some hope.

Because I remember what it was like
to figure it out

all on my own.