literature

Year of Loss

Deviation Actions

Anarkhos's avatar
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Published:
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Literature Text

I buried my innocence deep,
abandoned it in cold dark woods.

I shrivelled it with scathing eyes
and several dozen harmless lies,
refused it water,
left it to choke

(alone in the back of the closet with the old shoes and broken buckles and ripped jeans) -

but I did not forget.  

It was such a stifling environment to grow up in,
such a difficult time,
such a lonely way to live,
easier to pretend.  Easier to lie and to flutter eyelashes and declare
the past is a foreign country, they do things differently there.

But I didn't forget; lying is not forgetting,
and look,
here is a suitcase.  Love letters, the dress I wore the night I had my first
kiss.  
The shoes he bought me when he slept with my best friend.
The lucky pants.  Which were ripped, somehow, by someone,
but I don't remember who.

I buried my innocence deep,
so deep that the lies became the liturgy,
and when I wanted my innocence back,
to lose it piece by delicate piece,
I couldn't find it,
it wasn't among all the lies and the falsehoods and the drunken nights and the false starts and regrets and one night cheap shots at something or other that might oneday be more than going back.  It was gone.

I buried my innocence deep,
so deep that when I lost it, it didn't even cry.
So deep that now to cry seems empty,
and now to wish it back is hopeless.  
2009 was a year of loss in so many ways,
© 2010 - 2024 Anarkhos
Comments37
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sunshinegypsy's avatar
I'm an enlightened asshole, so here it goes. You are still innocent. You can't find it because you never lost it. To lose it is to never miss it. It makes you write amazing poetry. :hug: