Ode to the possibly 17 years, thereabouts
You came to me in a dream;
The cheesiness of it will not dissuade me from admitting this.
It is true, and it did happen.
It doesnât matter. The only thing that does is the âafterâ.
âAfterâ, I saw you. I had probably seen you before, but âafterâ I really saw you.
I saw you then, for the first time in my life.
You were fooling around gleefully.
You were glowing â because the morning sun was streaming from the windows behind you.
I think about that moment, and Iâve wondered
what my life would have been instead, if it hadnât happened.
But it did, and it will not unhappen.
Minute moments, short bursts of happiness
quietly cherished in my heart.
I held those memories of you from afar like a torch.
Who was I to you after all? A nobody.
I changed as I chased your shadow.
The me that was weak, was made stronger.
Quickly the years passed and school done.
I thought I would never see you again. That your work in my life was done.
You came back, if only briefly, before you were gone again.
Years and years I was left wondering if you were alright, if you were here, if you were dead or still alive.
When you re-entered my life, no, thatâs not right.
When I finally entered YOUR life, I thought, this is it.
That I can let myself hope
Years and years later. And finally, finally, I did dare to dream.
I do not deny â even in those last moments, I had dreamt of something other than âthisâ.
Maybe I was not the girl youâve always loved somewhere in your heart.
But I thought maybe I was at least, something.
After all, you have made me who I am right now.
You placed me where I am right now.
It had hurt me. I was completely surprised that it did.
I thought I would be alright.
But in the end I wasnât. How would I label that pain?
Was it the pain of a broken heart, or a broken trust? Was it hope shattering into a thousand pieces?
Do you know? I am always pursuing.
I keep looking for the YOU in people I meet.
I view them with mistrust and I close myself so tightly,
but never tight enough, never close enough.
I forget that pain at times, too many times, and stumble open.
Then the heart that refuses to remain broken, gets hurt again.
I dedicate angsty love songs to you and others.
I fear I may perhaps never be.