I’m going camping again this weekend.
I’m quite excited.
I’ve hardly slept in two weeks,
But maybe the fresh air will help.
Maybe I’ll brink the orange checkerboard
Blanket I brought on my first
Camping trip, or I’ll wear that
Hot pink baby jacket I wore.
That won’t fit anymore—
I’m 180 pounds now,
More than the double digits like
The fingers I sucked on while I slept.
But I can’t sleep.
I haven’t been able to in two weeks.
I haven’t dreamt in fourteen years.
But I still have that blanket;
I still have the hat, too.
I still have those sheets and
That pillow and the sweet,
Soft morning dew.
I still have that small girl inside,
Untouched by the hands of man,
From the hate and the words that
Mean so much.
I still have that small girl inside,
The girl who could smile and laugh,
And even though she couldn’t talk,
Showed her love beyond belief.
I’m going camping again this weekend.
I’m quite excited.
I’ve hardly slept in two weeks,
But maybe the fresh air will help.
-
Author:
Malo J (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 16th, 2025 20:41
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
A sad and touching write of past abuse and all those memories that have stayed , over the years the little girl has stayed inside living the nightmare, nicely expressed and written
This poem may be taken in more than one way there is the inner small girl that remains in her own happy child innocent world and then there is the outer self that can not accept the world as it is in its harshness. A well written piece
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