Innocence is the look in a child’s saddened eye

whose tears slowly drip down their pale cheeks and

onto the solid floor beneath them.

They are not one, but another.

Their hearts have become a broken hole

in the center of their chest,

waiting for it to heal with

the small bandages that should

stop the bleeding.

Innocence is that small colorless cloud in the sky,

waiting patiently for something

to happen to it, while

it drifts into empty space,

and finally

disappearing into the sky.

Why should innocence matter to me?

I have already lived through the pain of being alone

But my heart refuses to die so suddenly.

My innocence sits, waiting in a corner,

staring back at me with plain, lifeless eyes

knowing that I’m going to need it someday.

But . . .

Just not today.