when i was younger my mommy and daddy loved each other.
i only have one photo of them together, but it sits on my bedside dusty and clouded where nobody else will look at it
a pipe dream of a world that maybe i could have had
but now my heart runs along hundreds of miles of motorway to find him.
he says it was to live closer to his family and i believe him-
but sometimes i wonder if he was running away from my mum.
but sometimes i wonder if he was running away from me.
run away, run away! tag in the courtyard
when i was younger we would play tag and i would always take a time out once i got caught, so i wouldn’t have to chase anyone
i could never catch anyone, so people would avoid me, they didn’t want to end the game
i knew i wasn’t a fast kid and i’d never win, so i would always end up crying
i was always the kid crying in the corner;
sometimes i wonder if i’m still that kid, if i could ever be that girl again, crying because her mommy didn’t come pick her up from school.
sometimes i wonder if i had been the tagger, if the game of tag would ever have ended. or would they just keep running away from me?
when i was younger i left for high school for the first time and my mom cried taking a photo of me in my uniform. rite of british passage.
sometimes i wonder if my dad cried.
i don’t think he ever saw that photo.
sometimes i wonder when my dad thinks about me.
sometimes i wonder if anyone won’t run away from me.
sometimes i wonder-