I want to say I’d offer her a glass of water,
to show her the care she deserves.
She wouldn’t want to accept it
(feeling guilty for not getting it herself.)
I’d make her take it anyway.
We’d sit at the kitchen counter
to talk about the world’s faults.
She’s stronger than me – yet I am here.
She’s quite the picture – younger me.
Her hair long and heavy with grease;
our parents’ influence still weighing on her.
In her eyes I can see the pain they ignored
– until it was too late.
With each month her opinions change
(falling into the same traps her parents did)
but deep inside she knows it’s inevitable.
I tell her my simple truth,
She cannot escape the person I am;
Nor can I leave behind the way I speak of her
and the words I am too shy to say instead.
I will not escape our future – either.
I’d give her advice but it would all be a lie
the heartache and blocked phone numbers
are necessary for our journey.
So I only advise her to make peace with herself.
Someday she will learn,
she deserves the good just as she does the bad,
It’s all a part of the part we play,
looking at her now, I wouldn’t skip a bit.
And before the condensation can settle
her glass is left empty,
when I’ve let the conversation go stale.
It might be silly to say;
(with so little in common but the important)
I hope I am someone she can look up to.
