I don't want to be
That bright-eyed
24-year old anymore
Don't associate me with her
Erase her from my annals
Omit her from
The retellings of my life
She is gone now
She has been buried
Tell me how
I was 9 or 13 or 21
But don't tell me how
I was 24
Run the duster
To the blackboard of my life
Forget I was ever young at all
My youth lies wrapped up
In the arms of that girl
I'd pry them open
And ask for a refund
But you see that girl
No longer has arms
Not ones I can touch
She lies in a heap of ashes
In her parents' house
On a coffee table
Sealed in white porcelain
Among her ashes
I see myself
What does it mean
To be young and desired
To live free of the achings
Reserved for the elderly
To live uninhibited by care
To live unrestrained by worry
To live and be alive
I look at these scattered ashes
Two bodies lie there
And know I will never know these things
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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