"I am from" poem

I am from the lingering smell of burnt food at my moms,
The overload of take out at my dads,
And split time between the both of them.

I am from late night hangouts in the dusty attic of our garage,
The spine-chilling sleepovers on the trampoline to see who could make it till morning,
And being woken up in the afternoons to music echoing off the walls.

I am from each of the houses we left behind,
Abandoning pieces of my heart along the way.

I am from sneaking out,
Paying for it later,
And doing it all over again.

I am from family movie nights,
Licking salt covered butter at the bottom of the popcorn bag,
And not noticing the disgusted faces starting back at me.

I am from all of these childhood memories along with many more,
Locked inside my brain to never be forgotten.

Comments

  1. Terje November 30, 2017 at 10:53 AM

    This format allows to sort and choose memories that matter and could grow into stories. Your first verse made me wonder how you look back and make sense of this split time. The dusty attic and sleepovers on trampoline made me curious. The line about licking the salt covered butter at the bottom of the popcorn bag made me chuckle.

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