• I was the youngest daughter of the family
    who lived in the last apartment
    at the end of the burgundy carpeted hall,
    with red curly locksthat everyone loathed,
    brown eyes that watched the world
    and a few missing teeth.

    The son of the family, my brother
    was my best friend back when
    we crashed brightly-colored hot wheels,
    and built two story Lego mansions until bedtime.
    I can recall Patrick and I,
    bursting with joy
    as we raced off to the thin woods
    that stood just behind our apartment.
    The sunlight trickling down
    through the frail canopy,
    to us it seemed magical.
    Rotting ropes,
    an old red carpet,
    and a gigantic fallen oak
    thrived as part of our fortress.
    As the sun would sink below the clouds,
    we'd trudge our way back
    across the parking lot,
    yawning as we reached our doorstep.

    Change came for us one day,
    along with a moving truck,
    a new adress,
    and a real house
    with our own little backyard.
    Our magical fortress
    was now in the past,
    a whole new adventure had been ignited.
    I soon discovered that clothing lines
    were not meant to be turned
    into saftey lines while climbing a tree,
    no matter how much your brother insists
    you won't get injured if you fall.
    I learned that the ground is not one to be reckoned with,
    and that saftey line wasn't either,
    as I lay gasping for breath on the
    frost hardened dirt.
    I had my first adventure
    at the hospital that day.

    Time seemed to trickle by
    yet it did pass,
    I changed as I grew up
    my curly red locks
    turned into an untamable
    orange mess upon my head.
    I realized how the world was
    and conformed to be acceptable.
    My curious brown eyes
    changed to a glazed hazel.

    I've seen the shivering homeless
    with their few blankets,
    shopping carts filled with their only belongings,
    roaming in California.
    I have suffered through the dull sights
    of never ending fields of corn
    in the stretching state of Indiana
    and woken up in the old blue Saturn,
    thinking I'd be in gorgous Tennessee,
    realizing the rusty welcome sign says Florida.

    I've realized life
    can be stolen at any moment,
    so I learned to shove the bad memories
    to the back of my mind,
    where they wait restlessly.
    I taught myself to forgive
    those who shed my tears,
    shattered my beliefs,
    and tore me down.
    I have to admit
    I sank to their level from time to time
    I've hurt others and lived with regret.
    Yet regret
    isn't worth the pain
    time travel is physically impossible,
    as much as you wish,
    and you pray,
    you only get one chance.

    My heart has felt that feeling,
    the one you can't really describe
    and are unable to escape,
    not the great feeling
    that involves butterflies in your stomach
    but the horrible emptiness
    of losing someone
    you thought you'd have forever
    and missing someone
    who you never really had at all.

    I've felt betrayal,
    of trusting the wrong people
    I am a magnet for the foe
    who I give my trust to,
    only to reveal the pain of their lies.
    Trusting someone today
    is putting yourself
    on the line for them tomorrow.
    The stains they leave
    in my memory haunt me.
    Believing anyone is impossible
    after the person that supposedly loved me
    put me into a false reality,
    a false security
    only to reveal it had all been fake.

    My hazel eyes watch the world,
    taking it one day at a time.
    With new memories to gain,
    and trees to climb.