familiar little girl

there is a young girl i once knew.  she seems like a distant memory now, falling between the cracks of my mind every time i try to grasp onto her, but i am very certain i know her. i cannot remember who she is, but sometimes a fleeting image of her passes through my head and my bones are wrecked with this strange feeling, unlike anything i’ve ever felt before. it is a sort of yearning, a maternal longing to reach out to stroke her soft skin, to press my ear against her chest and listen to her fragile heartbeat, or to wrap her up in cotton and shield her away from the rest of the world, just like my very own doll. i find myself waiting for the next time she will appear, body restless with the anticipation of what image she will bring for me; some days she is swinging on the playground, others she is lying on her bed, playing with crayons. i cannot explain it, but me and this girl, we share a connection. there is something about her. something special.

i am unsure of how i know this little girl. we are the furthest from alike. i am deep, jet-black hair, razor-sharp tongue, jagged edges that pierce anybody who touches, and she is honey blond hair blowing in the wind, pure, tentative smiles, a soft glimmering star shining in the sky. some sort of angel… there is no way i could have come across this innocent without tainting her. the darkness i have come to possess has a way of sweeping innocence up in the riptide. that’s what happened to my innocence. to me. i cannot recall a single event from my childhood, or remember anything about the girl i used to be, but i know that something terrible lingers in my past. something so disastrous that my mind has stripped me from any memories of it, and so powerful that it broke me down into the hollow shell i am today. however, what i do know is that this little girl has the sweetest blue eyes i have ever seen, and i would do anything to keep that twinkle in them. i will make it my duty to protect this girl. i will not allow her to turn into me.

at first, i thought she was only a dream that refused to fade with morning light. a trick of a tired mind perhaps, some echo of a better life i never got to live. but dreams do not linger like this. they do not return with such consistency, such detail, such feeling. dreams do not make your chest ache as though something inside you is trying to claw its way out.