Ramblings

A Letter to a Problematic Itch

Being able to blow up your problems

Is a gift we'd all like to have.

To simply annihilate its or their existence

And live peacefully once again.

But, if given the chance—

O! how I would like to be rid of you,

An easy target: aim, steady, shoot—

I would not take. For living an eternity

In guilt is far worse, than enduring the pain

Of an itch that won't go away.

So, allow me to make it clear, my troublesome itch.

You were my first love, and first loves,

I'm afraid, are never easy to forget.

They become a part of you;

Introduce you to a new sort of world,

You've only ever heard of.

And in the end, you learn, first loves

Are not always meant to be.

So, my first love, my wearisome itch,

I may not forget the memories we've made,

Whether good or bad, peaceful or chaotic,

But our time has long come to an end.

Your long years of pestering,

And scratching at my door,

Will not change my mind, or my heart,

For I have long grown.

Stop chasing what no longer exist,

A girl who once saw you as her world,

And let me live happy again.

Just because I won't obliterate your existence,

Wipe you away from this world,

Does not mean I'll have you linger

Like the remnants of Chernobyl, years after.

I have long moved on,

My love for you, a once burning flame,

Has been stuffed out by the prison I once thought home.

And on my own, I have discovered my purpose;

Healed myself of the wounds I once let bleed.

Now, in the arms of another,

Who knows how to make me smile,

And what it takes to keep a fire burning ever after,

I have found a whole other sort of peace. 

Copyright © 2016 Caasie Cabral-Pereira

All rights reserved.