Beside you

I am beside you,

for support, for

love, for life,

I will be

behind you

when you want. I

will be invisible,

I will disappear,

like a raindrop

absorbed in the moist earth.

I will be undetectable,

illusive, or I

will be beside you. Behind you,

near you, I

will always be near you,

if untouchable,

if unnoticeable. I

will be near

you.

We search

for happiness

everywhere, we

scour others, ourselves

under rocks, high in trees.

We want to find

a source

something stable

everlasting, insuring us

with more. We

aren’t satisfied

with a moment,

a moment of happiness.

But that is

all we can hope for.

A few moments of

happiness. We

can hope to be more

lucky that others,

and maybe we

will find a few more.

But we

have to believe

in those moments,

those few moments

glad we have them

not wanting more.

I will be remembered

by you. You

will remember me.

I haven’t yet left

a dent on the world.

I haven’t written my

name across

the sky. I

haven’t written my

name on anyone’s heart.

But maybe I will.

Maybe it’ll be etched

on yours, long from now

you will remember me.

my face, my name.

You will remember me

as I am now, before

I left my name on the world,

I will leave my name

on your heart.

Words can fade,

words that are

written by pencils

can be erased.

words written on

computers can be deleted

by a click.

Words said,

Spoken words are

different. They vary.

Some are remembered.

Some forgotten, and some

are rewritten.

Words you’ve heard,

words you’ve said,

for different reasons.

But some are scratched

too deep, and you try

to scratch over them

until all that is left

is a hole. A

hole that eats you.

It wasn’t that I

didn’t know where I was,

It wasn’t that I

didn’t know what

to do,

It wasn’t that I,

Didn’t know who

I was.  They didn’t

know me. They didn’t

like me. They didn’t

respect me. I had

learned long ago

who I wasn’t.

I wasn’t them.

I wasn’t like them, and I

didn’t like them.

It wasn’t my job to change.

For them.

You weren’t waiting

for me.  You were

waiting for

something,

anything, and I

I was something.

But I am

more than something.

I am everything,

to me.  I am

the world, and

god.  I am god,

But not to

you.  I was

something, I

could’ve been

anything, but you

didn’t treat me

as a god.  You treated

me as

something.

It took

a long time

for her

to find the

peace, the

happiness, the

security in

him. It wasn’t

the first time

she saw him,

it was the

hundredth, maybe more.

She had looked

past, looking

for the happiness

elsewhere. But he

had it

within him,

waiting, dormant,

for her to find it.

The heaviness is more

powerful than

me. I can’t resist

the weight.

It is keeping me,

holding me,

touching me.

It is firmiliar,

like a friend,

a friend I know,

a friend I trust.

I trust this heaviness

to hold me down.

I trust it

to keep me here.

It has been

with me for so long.

It is natural,

loving,

caring,

and heavy.

I am scared.

Scared to fight back.

Scared to refuse.

Scared to resist.

I was born a mother

I was born two weeks too late for the second

three years too late for the first.

I was brought into the world

by a father

and a daughter

I was helping a girl toddle

before I myself had

taken my first steps.

I was born strong,

steady.

I was born for her

for my baby,

my girl.

They can give

her a name,

a face,

a hair color.

I gave her

herself.

I gave her

her memories.

And she gave me mine

I saw her first step.

I saw her first laugh

I gave her

her laugh

I gave her wonderment

I was the one who

showed her the flowers

I gave her those summer days

tasting like frozen lemonade and laughter.

I was the roots of her happiness

holding her life together

letting nothing erode.

But she has forgotten

She has left me

for someone else

who has more wonders

to dazzle her with.

But I showed her

the greatest

the smallest.

I showed her

her love for the world

for writing.

I showed her

how to fly.

And I learned from

her smiles what it

is like to soar

While my feet are

cemented, rotting

away in the ground.

What I would give

to remember what it

was like to see

her fly.

It is all

gone.

Gone like you.

Gone like me.

We are gone.

According to you.

But maybe I

am still

here.

Hoping,

hoping,

hoping.

That you

aren’t gone.