What We Used to Be

I don't know why she turned against me...

This is addressed

to the girl who played

the destiny game with me.

 

Do you remember, I wonder,

when we held our petite hands together

and giggled between the phrases

we couldn't word in our small mouths,

and dreamed so carelessly

about being in the same class

in the small school for children

where friends were like a bowl of cookies?

 

We had a game, I recall,

'twas a spinner that told us

what would happen in the days to come.

Fortunes in the cookies,

spelled in chocolates and marshmallows

about such things as toys and desk mates,

and should not have been taken so seriously

by a girl made from a memory.

 

You ate all the cookies

from my cookie jar.

You spat them out into blobs

and formed new, stale biscuits

that tasted so foul in my mouth

and seeped into my intestines

and burned like sour poison

while all the others ate them like candy.

 

You thought the game kept going,

spinning faster and faster as I

pushed it with the power of my

words, soft but mighty,

and your wheels turned, too,

Manipulation, recharging my

innocence into the rudeness of

a girl painted green.

 

You killed my bright

and stalled my motor,

frosted my yellow into a deep blue.

You took away

not only me,

but you erased the carefree

and delicate childhood

of what we used to be.