I'm losing time but I'm only a teenager...

Nostalgia

I remember the sound of my laugh.

When did I last hear it?

There was a fluctuation in my polygraph

when I said, “I was a happy kid.”

But I remember, and I wholeheartedly remember

me running around and singing.

When I said I can’t wait to grow up, what was I thinking?

The clock is ticking and time is running away.

He leaves me every time I ask him to stay.

So many years spent chasing and achieving nothing.

I was asked to name one quality I had; I couldn’t name anything.

What am I supposed to do in this quiet house?

I don’t want to get out of my bed anymore-why do I have a lounge?

Where’s all that noise I hated? Why is it so dark?

I wanted to run away from everyone; now I have no one to stitch the cracks in my heart.

I remember the sound of my laugh.

I hear it again when I’m in his arms.

He heals me and holds me when I’m cut in half.

I slept with him and forgot the morning alarm.

I used to be the girl who wanted to be a princess.

That’s not how life works. I’m in distress.

It doesn’t hit me anymore; I’m not allowed to be sad.

I wonder how much I still mean to him now when he is a dad.

Where do I pour all of my thoughts, which are sick?

I see my childhood dress and remember I smelled like milk.

They’re all calling me now; I have to go.

I miss my family, but I’m not allowed to say so.

What kind of mother acts like a child?

I don’t get happy like before. He asks me, “Are you good?” I say I’m fine.

I miss the songs I used to listen to,

but I can’t, my kids are saying the counting: 1, 3, 2

Life is good. My hair is greasy.

I see the mirror; I’m no longer pretty.

My wedding band doesn’t fit me.

I listen to the songs I used to listen to, of: Taylor and Billie.

My hands tremble when I put on my earrings.

I call my kids, and they let the phone ring.

I remember my mom used to tell me not to end up like her.

I think I’m a close call; don’t know better or worse.

I used to run home from school to watch TV.

Where’s my school now? I miss those desks creaking.

But you’re happy when you tell yourself you’re happy.

I still have the desire to sleep like a child, and I’m so sleepy.

The head pats, forehead kisses, the sound of my bedroom door slamming,

the smell of rain on my terrace, the cracks on the walls expanding.

So many people and feelings and paths,

some I lived, some I only watched pass.

I search the rooms for echoes of me,

but now I can't remember the sound of my laugh.

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