By renisha.conner.gwn

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Sometimes individuals wish to be blinded by reflection, distraught by the truth that lived in their childhood. This poem explores the duality of recollection and humanizes each perspective.

I am 
Jealous. 
of the energy
Thatallowsyoutojuggleyourproblems
Upon the brink of an iceberg.

How is it so
that you turn black ice into 
ice rinks?
Skating upon the icy hearts of people until they 

crack

Yet, you never fell through

I stare at a photo of you. Oh, how 
ANNOYING 
those glasses look
                     slipping 
                         off your nose 
anduncoordinatedcolorsplasteredonyourclothes. 
Arms decorated with bruises from the
concrete you fell on.
You were always the
clumsy one. 
But you wiped the dust off your arms, 
letting the bruise
blister and bleed.
Never felt the sting until playtime ended. 
But you never had regrets
and didn’t mind the burns of rubbing alcohol 
for every bruise a bad memory inscribed 
in your skin. 

So,
you painted butterflies on your face for every good 
memory 
To remind yourself that it’s a balance– 
Because you couldn’t keep time upon your tiny
shoulders.

Too large for a keepsake. 

So, you gallantly smile at the camera
as chicken bits snuck in between the gaps. 
“Myteetharegrowing,”
you manage to say without choking on another tooth. 
“A Happy Meal and a visit from the tooth fairy.” 
Your parents admire your simplistic joy.

Wait– 
How do you possess the ability to savor the conversations,
withoutlettingAIRslipbetweenyourtongue–a fickle one–engulfed in the sweet and sour
sauce you dipped your chicken nuggets in, that
savory ginger. 
Carefree mind, but the eyes are never empty. 
Merrily exploring the soul of the person in front of you,
the cat that 
meows 
incessantly for your attention, 
and the emotionless toys 
always receive the luxury of sleeping in your bed unlike
the tarnishing coins that gathered dust in an 
abandoned corner of your 
pillow.  

Yet, somehow you slowly became disinterested in our dates–in US. 
When your shadow escaped my silhouette 
It was a relief for you. 

It frightened me. 

You became the host of someone else
And ended my life chapter 
When our truths didn’t align.

You gnash your teeth when I greedily obsess over liquid greens
How righteous are you for not forgetting the kindness of natural greens
Yet you’re the little prick 
Who’s selfish with your eye contact

Because you’re afraid I might steal a piece of your soul.
So
CURSED are your eyes that cannot see–

Bitter melon images 
A past full of regrets
Too many failed scrimmages
And pathetic stubborn happiness that blinds 
You from the future our fate. 

A void that lived
Saudade,“the love that remains.”
Until nostalgia is appealing
Because I won’t tell you that I am lonely 
Too big of an ego to admit that I hate
how you enjoy being alone– 
Because your imagination was never the missing link.
The frisky mind that never allowed you to be bored. 
For you couldn’t even focus on a single thought
So, how could sadness be the 
concentrated one? 

I guess you’ll never understand the sense of l’appel du vide
How it latches onto you
Like an unnecessary pouch of 
STINK
That’ll engulf you till you’re mad. 

So, sitting here beside this photograph
Made me realize that we don’t reflect each other

I’m still trying to reclaim the spark
that already glistens in your eyes
While mine blisters.

Process

I started this piece in 11th grade and with the help of my wonderful mentor, Tracy Morin, this budding poem received a nourishing amount of love that allowed it to blossom from words dipped in frazzled thoughts into a theme about my life. I was always encouraged to experiment with line breaks, punctuation, and associating images with specific words to elaborate on the thematic messages I wanted to convey in my poem.