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the little girl with wings

Message to Readers

if people are interested enough, i will upload the first part, the one that was written months ago, before this recent stuff had even happened. it's the backstory per say.

carmeline's reprise

January 20, 2019



i was just musing back over those thoughts, 
and still they were prominent
still they existed – cold, maybe, and childish
then i was scrolling about, through the news
and it came up in lights you had died.
woman who i'd never spoken with, 
but i'd known you all the same. 
woman who i'd been angry towards,
now i felt only guilt and remorse. 
nobody could ever understand
i could never explain this to anybody.
you are ok now. it's ok. i might be crying for you, crying for your children
and it's ok if he goes. i know there will be a reunion at long last, two souls racing through the sand
for once, nothing in me twitches, and i don't say, "not my ozaria," 
i remember what i'd written in that previous poem about you 
ozaria is a place we all can stay. 
and i meant it. 
to say i've grown some years in the past few days is an understatement 
i suppose sixteen rendered me still a victim of jealousy
and now i understand. in every single color 
every aisle
every nation 
there are sisters holding hands. 
i should have blocked Him out from the start
although now I understand there's no shortage of hatred for Her
but i shouldn't have stewed about you 
you said you would never come back, 
said he would never come back. 
lay my place at the table if you have the kindness,
the kindness i did not have. 
if only i was an adult already
but i stand as a naked child in every room 
lost still. 
eyes and smoke at the edge of a doorway
and birthdays. balloons. dancing. crimson and clover. 
his name, yours. togethermore. 
me at the gold-gate cat door, 
looking up. 
noting your absence by my side after i'd cried, and cried
to have you back
does not break my heart because i am grown
and i know
i know you're seeing carmeline
for what i assume is the first time
in a long, long time. 
and i imagine it will be beautiful, the lovers fresh embrace
jealous is the wrong word, in my mouth it leaves the wrong taste
desirous? today i have no time for poetic wings and synonyms
longing. that's the word. guilt and longing interlaced. 
wanting. desperately, for i love him so. 
but to succeed we must share
and i should be fortunate at all, 
when the poor julies of this world have not tasted hide nor hare of my mikhail
age turns over anywhere
play the scottie dog, michael, baby
move her past go countless times
in between white sheets
body against her gently.
kiss her too
in whichever ozarian lighting and scene so sets the mood
i will watch wistfully from Downstairs
aching for my planet
but not bitter, 
and not angry. 
no longer angry at all. 
just sad, forlorn, 
because someone is gone,
underneath it all. 



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