Love (age 15)

I really hope I’m just confused

what a great word

like my mind just switched something

but this isn’t little

could come to define me

but this isn’t too big

I would be okay

just something to think about

switched

maybe I’m just reflecting

a chameleon in a rainbow

a happy chameleon

but, nonetheless,

confused.

I’d live to be in love

maybe that’s the problem

too eager too soon

or too late

fifth grade first kiss

left for another girl

because if it were for me

it would have happened

after everything that’s passed

I still believe in that

but I’ll never know

if it’s the wrong person because

of the person they are

or the person I am

either way it didn’t happen

I’m kind of glad

because that means

I get to save it

put it in my pocket

play it in my mind

keep it in my heart,

a lonely vessel,

I’m kind of regretful

it’s hard to open a door

that doesn’t have hinges

but when it happens

when I turn the knob,

look over my shoulder

make sure I still think

that they’re worth it

I’ll know

and

I won’t know at all

maybe that’s what will

make my first special

to be so deeply terrified

yet wise, yet vulnerable

with all the fear from my past

no fifth grade first kiss

for this girl

meant to be left

confused.

What I Say is True

I’m not crying because I knew him.

not crying because I’ll miss the visits

miss watching the decline

house to nursing home

walker to wheelchair

crying because this smell will stain

this moment, these clothes, this girl

I’ve watched this become him home

thick plastic curtains, styrofoam cups

unopinionated cream colored walls

tripping over his own tongue,

confined to the wheelchair

his situation never seemed especially hopeful

not that he ever minded

in whatever superhero shirt he was wearing,

the Peanut Gallery were his best friends

but today ashy, white skin

blank, faded eyes

weathered like a map after time

of folding and use

the man in the next room

turns a page of a newspaper.

I wonder, how many roommates

has he had

a nurse laughs in the distance,

how many has she seen?

how many times has this

exact scenario happened?

family standing and swaying

like dandelions in the wind

trying not to make eye contact

with the man in the bed,

the pictures on the walls,

or at each other while pretending we’re not here

out of options, my gaze is

cornered to his nightstand

torn, yellow-once-white pages

of decades worth of comic books

stick out in awkward places

a blue batman clock stands

like an old man walks with a cane

I’ve watched these few items

trail behind him as he moved from

house to nursing home

walker to wheelchair

because these memories will change

this moment, these clothes, this girl

I’ve watched them become his friends

a pile of pages and a clock

that hasn’t ticked in years

the call came at 3am the next morning

my dad said the nurses cried

now the man in the bed with wheels

is in a box that’s not going anywhere

except away, up there

and down six feet under

asked to say our last goodbyes,

my dad tucks the omnipresent

relics and remains of his life

into the coffin and whispers

“You’re a good man, Charlie Brown”

and that’s when I started to cry

Who Am I?

I take what's left.

I'm too much of a coward to make the first kill.

My best friend is a man who hides bodies in the floor boards

But at night, I fly. Take the wind and go.

My mind looking for the next thing to get attached to.

But this time someone took me, he took me.

Put me into words.

Rapping, tapping a melody

Made me into somebody

Who can't let go.

Doesn't leave until the job is done.

'Till the last bit of flesh is picked from bone.

Why did he pick me?

Rapping, tapping at some kind of door,

Why was I on the other side?

(the raven from Edgar Allen Poe's piece "The Raven")