I wish I knew this. I wish I could know this. Why doesn't he like me? Why doesn't he love me? Why do they all scare me so very much.? The funny and the lanky and the mod. The tall and the loud and the happy. Round pipe cleaners meeting oh so precariously for red kisses, screaming clever vernacular, chuckling deep sensitive chuckles, under nose and umbrella shadows and eyebrows you would cry to raise. How they hurt. How they all hurt. With their tongues and shoulders and touch and go generational love.
And another thing-I want my memory back. I want my childhood back. I wish. I wish she hadn't touched me. I wish he hadn't hit me. And they hadn't hurt me. Childhood. I wish they had let me be a child.