Written Spring 2016.
Memories are a funny thing, I guess
They fade, they falter, they have a midlife crisis
They decide to tweak themselves. Memories are not immutable.
They are always changing and reinventing themselves.
Once I remembered our first meeting differently,
But context lent that day a more sinister edge.
It would be several months of paper cuts
Before I would notice the bleeding.
It’s amazing how much can change in the span of a few years.
I was a kid, I had my fair share of friends and enemies
Things I didn’t regret and things I should’ve.
But I had something then I don’t have now.
Something tells me I won’t find it again for a very long time.
Every time I saw through the denial
And began to question the way you treated me
You coyly reached into my memories, and moved them around.
You showed me, calmly, slight alterations you had made.
I wish it was easier to move on. It feels like it should be.
It’s easy to run from the blades you see,
But there’s no escape from the deep incisions made
By a plastic knife slipped under your skin by a friend.
In the end, you watched me finally tear myself away with a half smile.
You watched me go back to my sisters with a grin.
With eyes that told me that no matter how much I grew, I would never be bigger than you.
But maybe I can gain a few feet, if I stop inspecting the blisters around my ankles.
And start searching the clouds for what I’ve lost.