What I Lost

When I was younger I used to spend my time looking up too often
I would take the longer route home
To spend more time with the trees
I found comfort in between the pile of leaves and the warmth of the sun
Rather than a bedroom that used to be for two

When I was younger I often looked at boys with bright eyes
Wrote poems about their sweaty palms and tousled hair
I wrote about how I would feel
When I was thirteen,
Sixteen,
Eighteen.

When I was younger I embraced the night sky
And the stillness of the earth
Thinking about how I felt everything and nothing,
All at once
How beautiful and free that my own mind felt

I loved myself
With how I viewed life

With such small hands, I held my worn-out journal
Clutching it against my childish, beating heart
Not knowing that here beside the lake
Would be the last time I would have that feeling

When I turned twenty-six, I felt indifferent
I have gotten where I’ve always wanted to be
But throughout the years I’ve stopped writing
And when I stopped,
So did the feeling.

I write again, to feel it.
To look at the world
With the love I had so much of
When I was thirteen,
Sixteen,
Eighteen.

I lost myself.
I hope to find her again with these words.