fourteen years of a story.
each page a day, maybe even an hour.
pages flutter in my brain like the butterflies in my stomach when i first met my first crush
in the first few pages, few chapters-
an innocent childhood, pages fragile as a baby’s skin.
those pages are almost all gone, each page falling out of the book, dropping like bombs
the bombs of negativity
first appearing around the middle of the beginning
bullies, drama, and fights between parents
each one ringing in my ears, church bells
the first time i was forced to go to church.
each ring was a shot to my heart
the first death was loud in my ears, ringing, ringing-
like a phone.
two, three years of the first piece of technology i could call mine.
it was small, but strong.
like her.
she was the first fighter i knew.
when the shots rang out, she would brace herself, fists clenched
they left cuts, but she healed and kept moving.
until that one day, when the shots became pills and she never fought against those
popping pills like bubbles
bubbles, childhood, the first pages.
i wish they were still in my book, back to happy, to the first chapter
before we were growing up