growing up
i believed
dreams would take me
scatter me
lead me
to a place
i could be one with the clouds.
getting older
i believed
life was cut clean
from the
tree of dreams
I watched as the
branches fell.
heavy in a storm.
growing up
I believed
life was set
with a destiny.
hope lost hold
in my young
wounded soul.
that once blew
wishes in
an autumn breeze.
I found the wind, it did not listen to me.
I held my head heavy,
begging for help
but the clouds could not reach their arms out
the remains fell ontop of me
burrying me in
a cool familar scent.
I hadn’t breathed since
before the thunder came.
Dear Alan,
It’s your 18th birthday today, well, actually not today. From where I’m writing this, it’s 11:51 p.m. April 9th. Technically it’s still two days until you turn 18. I know I might be a little insane, but 18…That makes me want to die. I remember when you were 15… Just a boy with crazy hair that I was wild about. I miss that. I miss the young and the innonsence. I miss when I was scared to talk to you. But at the same time, I really don’t. I’m so happy that I got to grow up with you that I could actually cry. Excuse me, that I am actually crying. I love you hun. I’m so lucky to have found you. Because you are my bestfriend. I’ve had friends, I’ve always had bestfriends. But you are someone I really enjoy, that I would wait forever and a day to see. Do you remember 16? Do you remember sending silly text messages? Do you remember when there was time for you to talk to me? I do. I miss that. I miss Band Of Horses, I remember falling madly in love with you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still madly in love with you but I miss when the feeling was mutual. It doesn’t really feel that way anymore. I remember watching the stars with you. I remember you throwing rocks at my window like a cheesey teenage love flick. I remember my dad’s field and all the times we hung out there. Or walked in the cold holding hands. I miss that. I’ll remember 17, everything got so complicated, but I know there is no way we will ever be fully apart. You are my love my dear, you are so mych to me. I’ll remember how fast time went. I’ll remember the love we shared. But 17, I don’t know my dear, there wasn’t much that was too memorable. I fear you are drifting from me. And with every passing year, every birthday of yours, I fear we are growing farther apart. I love you, but I’m scared Alan. That you’re going to go to Washington and completely leave me behind. I want to say that I’m sick of doing so much for you when I get nothing in return. I love to see you smile but I feel you just expect me to do things for you. Like get you easter baskets, buy you shirts, remember you on Christmas, and your birthday. I feel like an ass because I got you “things” that I thought about, that I thought maybe you’d enjoy when this hasn’t happened for me. The only “thing” you have given me is broken and I see it as a broken symbol of our love. I think you do too. I think you just don’t see me anymore. I act like this horrible slut around you because I’m afraid that you’re not interested in me. It really feels that way. Because when I need to talk or cry to someone or just hear your voice- I can’t get a hold of you. When you need me, I’m always there.
