Forgetting to Remember to Ache to Forget


Forgetting to Remember to Ache to Forget

Close your eyes and sit in the sun,

A red like cherry blossoms through flesh and little circles all wound around one another,

The flicker glimmer of transparent lash eye shield wipers, fluttering back and forth,

Warm brown, or a piercing green, or a calm blue-mix color.

And even though there are these little purple endings here and there, weaving their way through my face,

I will always call us both beautiful.

I already have a twin,

You can’t be mine,

But you can take my hand and walk with me,

Tell me the things I didn’t know then,

Accept that we cannot be the same as the world moves us separately forward,

I miss seeing you, friend,

And even though you are just a few years older than me,

Maybe we were right back then,

Are you imaginary if you were real that entire time?

If I was just too young to see it yet?

Will you forgive me for the mistakes I have made today?

I hope so.

He called me a “strange creature”;

I am not.

If I take off my glasses for a moment, pinching my brow,

Maybe there will be less to see.

Older me, please send in the troops,

The eye glass marks don’t distract them anymore,

I get more attention with the glasses off,

I feel like I have to care less to compensate,

But I won’t,

Mostly because I simply can’t.

Do you trust me, if I say I was wrong?

Could I have been right, Haley?

I miss having less pressure, in a strange way,

I miss being less aware of being alive.

It is a terrible thing to become so aware,

That you’re only choice is to care.

It is the most beautiful thing I can imagine,

But I miss having fun for no good reason!

I am happy anyways,

But I miss the novelty of a good laugh,

Because they are simply less new now.

I know I will be able to shift my priorities, as I age,

But for frick’s sake,

If I don’t think, I can’t breathe,

In terms of what makes breathing the most beautiful.

Let us not forget what has changed,

As we run into what will inevitably be different,

Run into the flames, Sweet Child.

It was so real then, and although I sometimes feel like I’m living a lie,

I’m also intensely blessed, and I know it.

In a way, I do enjoy what I have,

But I know I will enjoy it more in hindsight, if I do it right.

Backwards has saved me before,

Backwards will save me again,

Call it what it is.

There has got to be more than this,

And there will be,

But you need to focus on now again,

Whenever I get this much happier, the emphasis becomes the past and future,

And less about today.

It is easier to spread joy over a lifetime,

Than to run into it in every moment,

Living it, when other people tell you otherwise.

The need for more just keeps getting bigger and bigger,

And the joy will be greater then, so I should multiply it now.

I have strong roots,

But I was born with a depth that I can’t control,

May as well stretch my branches as far as they will balance,

Who are you to pretend to know so much better?

Your stereotypes pre-defeat you.

When will we go home, Haley?

Isn’t it time you “outgrow” this phase?

I will stay here, there is no need to leave yet,

He will call me out as he’s ready.

If it scares you, then it scares me too,

Where will I go but here? Who will I run to?

If you say there is no God in this world, then I don’t want to be alive,

I’d rather be with him;

Will they ruin the rest?

I know you will look after me,

But placing my life in the hands of God was always the right gamble,

It just was never the same.

You want these marvelous things,

But you cannot afford to pay for them,

And you would not accept his love, even without a price.

I still grieve for what I will never know,

And it suits me, I think.

You don’t scare me,

This life is not mine to break like that,

Clearly it’s a loan,

To serve right is to run into love without knowing,

And see where he takes you.

You cannot know better,

We all know the same nothing.

I miss being home,

I feel it when I slow down sometimes,

With the sun on my face,

And my heart still beating very, very still.

I wish I could go back,

The phantom child crying under the wicker table,

Scrolled permanently before my eyes.

And sometimes, the forgiveness startles me,

I would be content to forget,

I miss being home.

I miss it most when I’m happy,

Because I long to go back.

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I am a teacher-to-be who loves people. I am not afraid of many things. I like to explain my thoughts logically on a very birds-eye view level--I was born thinking that way. I follow Jesus Christ, and I accept only that label to describe my identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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