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 dims 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
“and 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 that 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
but most of all, my wild, innocent child,
they’re felt in the silence
