I am from the unstable environments and constant moving.
From the drifted friends, and broken promises.
From the Sketchers on the blacktop, the blisters on my feet,
cruising sidewalks with The Little Mermaid,
and pocketing chocolate from the store.
Deliciously wicked.
I am from the pain welling in his eyes,
as he watches his two boys fight to be right,
with the wrong intentions.
My mother's lips on my cheek,
for I didn't understand it at the time.
From the seas of fabric,
to tunnels of warmth and plastic spaghetti,
with the accompaniment of No Doubt and Avril Lavigne.
A constant brewing of words
that were too hot to handle with my voice.
A journal unkept.
I wrote in it twice.
Regret and shame.
I am from the presence of my three best friends:
Hannah, Aurora, and Husky,
who were too quiet for anyone else to understand.
A dark brown mutt, nuzzling my face,
with perfectly white paws, like socks.
Formerly Kassie, now Koko.
From the letter stowed away under my pillow,
waking in a cold sweat and warm tears;
he promised me he'd be back soon.
How did he say it so confidently?
The wilderness of Guam's countryside,
suspicious snakes and prickly plants,
my back floating in the water, hair tangled.
Finger on the trigger of a 22-caliber at my own father,
I wanted the shotgun.
I am from those moments,
filled with desolate dreams of perfection
bittersweet and sentimental,
that found me in a freedom I have yet to taste.
