What Could Have Been
Maybe what we once had,
we can never get back.
Maybe what could have been,
we will now never know.
You walked away, leaving me
confused, hurt, pensive, bitter
and sorrowful, as we said goodbye
to something that had
the potential for greatness.
Something I now realize was left
so underdeveloped and inauthentic.
But ultimately, I can only feel sorry for you;
as you may never know the meaning of my love.
Maybe we were once something
and now we are seemingly nothing,
only but strangers,
acquainted from a time past.
Maybe you hurt me,
deciding to never look back,
While I mourned our loss.
Maybe we walk the halls,
staring at each other,
trying to recall memories
of the times that used to be.
I cannot regret nor can I approve,
I saw your potential
for kindness and sincerity,
but you fell far short.
And I pity your inability
to seize life’s opportunities.
Though I still hurt, I can wait.
I choose not to settle.
And after all the hours spent
analyzing, procrastinating, and reflecting
I can honestly say I do not understand
why others cannot grasp the concept of empathy.
In the end, chances are
if you've wounded my sensitive soul,
I have chosen to forgive you,
while stoically weathering the hurt.
Through the Years
At 5, we rolled around on our stomachs
as if mermaids roaming the sea.
At 6, we jumped from chair to couch,
or swing to slide, never touching
the boiling sea of lava.
At 7, we rode our bikes, sprinting from
the monsters trying to capture and eat us.
At 8, we used cardboard and markers
to create remote controls, shooting away
the bad cars surrounding us on the road.
At 9, a hose and a trampoline were whatever
we could make them: a house, a boat, even a gameshow.
At 10, the backyard was more than a playground.
It was wherever our minds would take us,
most often the forest of trees lining the fence,
we referred to as “The Woods,”
which was a startling expanse of the unknown.
At 11, we swam around bending water
like the avatar, We found sticks on the ground
and waved our wands, each a different
Harry Potter character casting a spell.
I am now 17, imagination tempered,
by the knowledge of maturation.
But it is not gone. When the fire ignites,
we will again swim the magical seas of mermaids,
conquer the fiery beast of lava, and
overcome the monsters from our nightmares.
We will bend water, use magical charms,
and eliminate evil.
Because imagination does not leave us,
it simply hides when we let it.
For those who are willing to uncover
the mystery of adventure,
and the youthfulness of creativity,
will find warmth from a time long gone
and enlightenment for a time to come.