I find it difficult to get rid of shirts that I wore when I was thirteen.
Since I know how much I used to love them.
I sense she would feel betrayed if she saw it
Hanging on a rack at the thrift store.
Perhaps the reason it’s so hard for me to get rid of them
Is because I don’t want to hurt her anymore than I already have.
Or is it because I am grieving the loss of my childhood?
Since I find myself holding onto anything that is left of the little girl I once was.
Time seems to move slower when it rains
Cars hesitate before they turn
Bird wings lag as raindrops batter their feathers
The world seems small and heavy
Every year the lines in her face deepen
Her lips turn slightly thinner
And her hands somehow grow softer
Yet her laugh remains the same
Her smile still as wide
My first car has absorbed the beauty of your soul
The wholeness of your heart
Your voice rushes through the air vents and echoes through the quiet space
It blows the flyaways of my hair
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