the innocent (almost 3 years old)

I watch

I watch the third grade girl sit with her dad and laugh and laugh

I watch as her innocent smile creeps upon her face over and over again, each time a little brighter

I watch as she grows up before me

I watch as her smile dimsΒ a little and her heart becomes a bit more broken

I watch as she lets the guy she gave her all too break her

and I go home

and I look in the mirror

and I watch as my tears slide down the sides of my face

and I close my eyes

as I watch the memories of us replay over and over in my mind

I was the innocent girl before I met you

you made me wild and drove me crazy

and I’ve always had it in me

to love wildly and crazily

but whose to say that I wasn’t that innocent girl deep down

then I watch

as the innocence inside me utters

β€œand whose to say that it was even love

when there was never a vocalization

when the words were never uttered?”

well, because my wild, innocent child,

there are some things thatΒ don’t have to be said

because they’re felt

they’re felt in the tight embraces that leave you breathless

and in the blinding eye contact

butΒ most of all, my wild, innocent child,

they’re felt in the silence

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