i want to go back (before it was all fucked up)
i want to go back
i want to go back
to the tall, mirror walls
and the upright piano
inside the white, big, empty house
the house with the mahogany furniture,
so fresh, yet cold,
so big, and in memory,
so small.
i want to go back to being left alone
long afternoons, long mornings,
where i could cope with solitude
and had not yet met a man’s love.
i want to go back to when i thought
of being a teacher, chef and doctor,
and though i’ve practiced all three,
i no longer feel the rush of any of them.
go back to when
the only violence i knew
was maternal love, mom said
and it was for own good.
when no one hugged me,
so i didn’t longed for a hugh;
when no one, besides family, had loved me
and so, i didn’t know about tragedy.
i want to go back to the innocence
before i knew sex, passion and desire.
when my happiness depended on play doh’s
and how many books i wanted to explore.
way before i fell in love for the first time,
before the kissing, the clumsy touching
before the harassing and abuse i had to suffer
before knowing my body could be sexually exploited.
i want to go back, and freeze.
never grow up, never age.
never meet life cruel ways
or the bites of love’s sharp teeth.
i want to go back
to when i believed
in worlds inside wardrobes,
castles of wizardry and witchcraft
dragons and riders
or daemonions for humans
or that a ring could rule
all creatures, humans too.
i want to go back and forget
every time i’ve been used
every time i’ve been lied to
everytime my heart broke in two
or more pieces.
i want to go back
never have my neck almost broken
by someone i thought loved me
nor hit the man i’ll always love
i want to go back and never
been left aside, for another girl
go back to when my body felt good
and i wasn’t complexed
but i also want to forget
the lies i learnt to tell
the business i got into
the fantasies i created in my mind
i want to disappear
the mental scars of toxicity
the skins scars of the blades
the uterine scars of the 7mm embryo
i want to go back
to when i wasn’t harmed
and i didn’t harmed
and no one was branded
i want to go back
and never break his heart
never run out of home
never swallow the pills
never sniff the white powder up my nose
never try the cigarettes and booze
just stay with the playdohs
and the worlds in the books
maybe jump inside a book
and let a character come outside
live my own inkheart story
even some pretty little liar drama
i want to go back,
maybe back inside the womb
stay there,
maybe not even get to be
i want to go back and never know
never learn, never live
whatever hell i’ve been living,
dante’s inferno feels so cozy
i want to go back
back to the womb
or the big, white, empty house
or even before being kicked out
i just
want to go back
to before the damage was made to me
and so i would injure in return.
to when i was pure
and in my eyes, the world was too
to when i didn’t care
and the world did not know me yet.
