From the Girl Who Wanted to Be Loved

For once,

I'd like to me a person,

Instead of a threat.

I guess I thought it would be kind of cool,

If somebody loved me.

If somebody who liked green,

And smelled like pine

Held me in his arms,

And said this.

He'd say,

"I love you."

That's what I'd like,

To be as grounded as a tree,

But still as free as wind.

I'd like tons of things,

Like for my psycho siblings to get along,

And not to have to defend my life at every waking moment.

I don't want to sleep with one eye open.

Instead,

I want to sleep through wars,

In the arms of someone who loves me,

And rolls his eyes in annoyance whenever I ask him to tell me again.

That's exactly what I'd give anything for.

I'd love to wait at home all day,

Cooking,

And attempting to separate an arguing six and twelve year old.

And then,

The door opens,

And you step in,

And I don't have to dream anymore.

I don't have to dream of a nice family dinner…

Without the flying carrots, thank you very much.

I don't have to wish that someone's arms lock around me,

And after all these years,

They still smell like pine.

You still roll your eyes when I beg again to hear those three beautiful words,

But you at least look amused this time.

And you kiss my head,

Your lips sliding into a lazy half-smile,

Because it's too troublesome to smile all the way,

So I have to smile enough for both of us.

I know you cry sometimes,

About losing a friend,

And I know I made fun of you for it early on,

But I've changed!

Well, maybe I haven't changed that much.

But don't act like you're not the same gawking crybaby that a fell in love with so long ago,

Because you haven't changed a bit either.

You still groan and complain,

And ditch me to go look at the sky,

Whatever those floating white cotton balls can do for you…

And you still look at me like I'm fourteen years old,

Like I owe you something.

Of course I do,

I owe you a meal,

So shut up and stop asking for dinner.

It's coming, okay?

Geez,

Such a demanding man.

No matter how tall you get,

And how much more you work out,

I'm always gonna see that lanky,

Twelve year old sexist,

Who thinks that the girl can't save the guy,

Which is a lie, 'cause I've hauled your lazy carcass out of danger numerous times,

And I'll always see that 'what a bore' look on your face,

And no, not because you're giving it to me right now…

I'll never forget,

The day I saw you cry.

It was so beautiful,

Yet so melancholy.

It was then that I knew,

That you trusted me enough to shed tears in front of me,

And let me dry the tears from the face of a boy,

Who was carved from porcelain,

But as soft as silk.

You were real,

Genuine,

And you

Still

Are.

~For the tree, from the wind~