Conversation With My 14 Year Old Self

Take this hoodie, boy.
I know you’re cold, I see
goosebumps swimming
against the tide of your
crossed arms because
you don’t know who I am.
You’re pretending not to cry,
but that shine in your eye
isn’t because you burn bright, boy.

I’ll ignore the fact you just
flipped me off because
you camouflage tough skin.
Lower the sentinels,
keep the guard dogs on their chain
and hold back the poised off quivering lips.
You have always been important like
your younger sisters and older brother.
I know mum has a weird way
of showing that she loves you,
just don’t drown her anymore.
She is just trying to swim with you.

You’re angry, I know this.
Loneliness is something we both feel.
We sit on the curb of this sidewalk together,
because we both know the world cares less
about why you’re crying right now,
because people are uncomfortable with breakdowns.
Nobody will continue
to walk beside you through
the storm you try to weather
so become friends with your shadow,
be comfortable with yourself
and please don’t use the razors tonight
because the scars will re-open years later.
If you do though, don’t go deep
because you don’t know how to tread waters. 

Let me hold your hand boy,
and if the punks at school
call you a f****t don’t strike back,
for hands are more powerful when
palms are clasped together in prayer
than trembling fists painting blood,
so believe me when I say keep holding my hand
because I will teach you how to love yourself.
Mold. Transform.
Extend the branches of our brittle fingers
because forgiveness is more peaceful
than vengeance, so when you see Jamie Bernard
at your second week of high school,
you will be able to walk by knowing power
is the ability to believe karma will flower
like a rose catching flame, because I saw
him the other day, and his eyes are
filled with images of regret as he pierced me
with an apology for robbing my mother’s
only memory of her mother, and
I know I’m getting off topic now, but
believe me when I say that
despite the numerous nights you
spend crying yourself to sleep, there is
a beautiful sunrise somewhere in the world,
and one day you will catch it.

For now, you laugh at me,
as if I’m talking crazy, but you’re hiding.
I know that trick too well.
You forget that I’ve been you,
and now I’m just the shell.
The pain you feel is real,
but your passion burns like
a lone flicker of the fire pit
inside our soul, yet we still burn.
The fighter inside of you will carry you forward,
and I know this because you’re
the little boy I used to be,
the pissed off, heartbroken
fourteen year old me.

I know you’re waiting for the street lights
to turn on to go home because
of that fight with Dad and his wolf hands,
but mum would love to see you at the dinner table.
You don’t have to say anything, because
she understands you’re not okay,
but she sees that you will be,
just like me. Keep eating
your lunch in bathroom stalls if
that helps you feel safe.
Don’t flinch away from the hugs
of cherished friends you will soon meet,
and don’t fall too heavy in their bad habits,
because the choices you make now
will hold onto you
like white marble statues
gripping daggers they’re scared of.  

Please,
if you take anything away from this,
don’t mistake a blind date as something
normal a fourteen year old boy would do.
You will be pushed into a den of wolves,
and I still don’t know how to dive in and save you,
so please, please, please, stay home that day,
but the state I see you in now, I think I'm too late.