by Lex Foresha
I am from the outdoors.
From all the whining and crying.
I am from the thorn bushes that sat underneath my porch.
Sharp, full of questions and splinters.
The history I cannot hinder.
I am from the tall oak tree that peered through my window.
Always trying to climb to the top but never succeeded.
The smell of the grass and flowers I hold dear.
I am from the rashes and all the gashes I got riding my bike.
The taste of blood when I busted my face that one time.
Remember? Of course you don’t. You never did remember.
You weren’t there, I was alone.
I am from tenderness.
Two friends finding a way for themselves.
We were Constantly laughing until we could not breathe.
From all of the apologies that came out of my mouth.
I’m sorry can we be friends again?
I am from sympathy.
From the acceptance I gave that you took for granted.
We used to always make up until we didn’t.
It’s your fault we don’t speak.
I am from loneliness.
You left and it was just me.