Tomorrow, I will worry about the future.
But today, I wallow in the past.

Tomorrow, I will be 16 and trying to remember
if the derivative of arcsin is one over
square-root-of-one-minus-u-squared
or square-root-of-u-squared-minus-one.

You were my
Spaghetti boyfriend
Blonde
Full of spaghetti
That’s all I really
Know about you

You were my
Only friend
Bright
Full of potential
It’s strange how I don’t
Remember you

The place many memories were made, where laughs echo throughout the woods. Splashes into the water below can still be heard and felt on a hot summer’s day. The rope that hangs, worn and weathered from young hands, gripping it tightly.

As children everything is pure
Endless and pure
As you age you notice the stars
Burnt out memories light years away
Only if you can see them
Past your city lights and suburbs.
In their memory we keep living on
And amongst our betrayal and companions

Laughter chirps through my ears

A forever perfect

Harmony

In this imperfect world

Sunshine frames the chalk lines

Every colorful streak

A reflection of my friends

A reflection of myself

Thriving in our child-like ways

At the grocery store
In the days of our youth
The green twist ties were the best part.

So easily entertained were we
With these simple pliable toys
Laughing and forming new shapes.

As our war rages on, I’m caught in a crossfire.
One side shrieks its anthem of misguided hope.
The other, facing reality’s certain dread head on.
While I, a teenager caught in the midst of battle, seek refuge.

I was sitting in my private school, around age 8
The religion teacher said, everyone sit in a circle
Don’t speak
Close your eyes
Raise your hand when you hear God speaking to you
One by one each child raised their hand
I sat
Thinking