i can’t just purchase the past
Mykala Gray
but if i could, i’d purchase more time.
time with my lost grandma,
i can’t put a price point on it,
but i’d want time to talk, to catch up,
time for her to be there, for what she missed,
high school graduation, getting into college,
and everything in between,
and maybe i’d buy time with forgotten friends,
to understand why they’re forgotten,
to put more effort into remembering,
to cherish what i have before we grow apart,
which is why, i think, i would
also buy the time to tell myself
to slow down,
to cherish everything,
to stop and think of where i am
and how i got here, because
everything goes by so quickly,
even if it feels like snail speed in the moment,
too soon, i’ll be sitting and looking back on it,
and i’ll want to tell the girl- the me-
that was living it
to take it in,
to tell her to breathe, because
it’ll be okay, the sun will come up
the next morning and
the world will keep spinning,
because despite my overthinking mind,
not every inconvenience will be the death of me.
my heart is a graveyard of memories;
like love letters for lifeless eyes,
where the handwriting is a painful reminder,
of loops and something that isn’t quite cursive,
but it takes a minute to decipher anyway.
my heart is warm from forgotten memories;
like how the morning dew tells the story,
of forgotten lullabies and the dreams held within them.