The Wind Knows Things

I hope that girl who told me I couldn't play with her
and her friends at recess
in 3rd grade knows what that did to me.
I hope she knows how embarrassed I felt,
or the guilt that took over
when I stained my moms new sweater with tears.
Because that was a real thing.

And whenever I look at that damn purple skirt,
the helplessness envelops me again,
and I don't think I'll ever be able to give it away
because it still smells like you...
and that's the realest thing I've ever known.

Scratch that.
                                              You  were the realest thing I've ever known.

I hope one day,
I'll be able to forgive myself
the way you forgave me when I thought I was too cool
to be your friend.
Because icebergs are cool, mike posner is cool,
polar bears & penguins are cool, "Ice Ice Baby" is cool.
You were cool.


But I was blind with my "shades" on.
And I drove past you too fast in my sports car
to see that you needed help.
And the designer jeans stopped the blood flow in my legs
and I couldn't run to you when you needed me most.
And now I'd rather forever
be part of the math club and find out what x equals with you,
then sit with "the cool kids" at lunch
and only be able to talk to your mom when I miss you most.
(Which is every day.)

These tears hit me like bricks every moment
of every day.
And the memories never stop,
and I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
And I'm losing friends because
I talk about you too much,
and it makes them sad.
But it has a tendency to bring a smile to my face.

There are plenty of things I could say are fake 
about my life, my emotions, my thoughts, my words.
But these smiles are always real,
Because the memories are sunshine.
And I'll be forever glowing with thoughts of you.

I hope that girl way way way back in 3rd grade knows what she did to me.
I hope she knows that she taught me what it meant
to be real.
I hope she knows that I don't get embarrassed anymore,
and I only blush when a boy tells me I'm pretty.
The tears washed out of my moms sweater,
and the guilt is forever fading with the wind.

And the wind is forever reminding me to forgive myself.

Daveni Rush.