I'm lost.
He's angry.
A stranger I have known for six years.
He knows everything about me......
I know only his name and date of birth.
He's a mystery, afraid to let me close.
Even when he lived near,
he was always far, far away.
I loved a ghost.
He appeared only in dire need.
That which he of course,
determined.
I thought of my life as an empty, unfulfilled book.
I had spent over a decade in a life dictated by neglect and abuse.
The next decade was no better.
I was lost. Living a life that had been mold for me.
By people who got paid for grooming an adolescent.
There was no mother. No father. No aunts, uncles or cousins.
I once had a brother and grandparents, but they died.
The date of their deaths, marked the end of a childhood.
The end of a once loving family.
The brother looked like Huck Finn.
Freckles, freckles, all over his nose.
Trying so hard to save the weak,
but never without first watching from a distance.
I had been alone to fight a battle meant for an army.
Many men, but only a child.
Who was this man.
Did he ever exist.
I love you he cries, but never tears.
I will take care of you, but where is he.
Some day I will see you.
To make you happy, but all I do is cry......Cry......Cry........
She is always happy as her name.
Sarcastic and strong.
Stronger than me.
I haven't very much.
She is married.
A fighter.
A lone star.
Who am I.
I am a lonely star.
So dim, that no one knows I exist.
A life driven by fear of dying, like those who have come into my life.
Those I have loved and that loved me,
are dead.............now.
Those that never did, but acted on occasion,
to be sympathetic to my unfortunate misery.............are .........alive.
Who are they to say they care.
A brown leaf at the end of autumn, has more meaning than I.
It signifies the end of life,
just to await a new beginning.
A new birth.
A colorful, budding life.
One that shades the burning pain, and feeds you the cooling sky.
Back and fourth, the leaves whistle.
Massaging the mind.
You too will sing.
It's time to die, just to live.
A life so mortal, so fragile.
Your hearts more delicate than the passing air,
yet, it never gets to touch as much.
I remember that man.
A ghost of thought.
There, only when his need determined it.
I'll be there to help you,
right now I can not.
I will be there,
right now I can not.
The other men protecting the pain of others.
Never wanting me to experience pain,
but they died.
Forever dead.........and I am here.
Why must I be here.
Who am I.
My mind is bonded to that which I will never have.
I am his other half, but who is mine.
I have nothing to show for my life
just the pain.
I cry and cry, but he doesn't hear.
I'll be there one day,
but again.................
it's too late.
I have nothing but myself.
Not yet good enough.
Will it ever be.
Copyright January 1999 Michelle