Burying the dead
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
"hi Johnny, you remember me? I wanted to call and
tell you I'm doing fine. I'm married now and I
got a kid. I wanted to let you know I turned out
alright."
it was strange to hear her voice
it had been years and a lifetime away
a little girl from the bricks
I barely remembered her, a tall skinny
girl that worn her shorts too short
and her tops too tight over barely
budding breasts,
she didn't have a father or a brother
or anyone that cared to look after her
instead she had me,
"when you caught me with Robert that
night, I figured you thought I was a little
whore or something."
I remembered the night, teenagers doing
what teenagers do and she thought I would
label her a whore at thirteen,
"no, sandi, I never thought that."
but she did, for ten years and all the
crap that comes with growing up, she
carried that image in her head and
looked forward to the day when she
would call me and tell me she had
done alright and somehow purge her
soul of all the cruel self-talk that
made her try so hard,
"I love you baby and I'm so proud of you."
sobbing she said "I'll call again."
I knew she wouldn't and she hasn't,
we rarely visit the graves of the dead.
J. Masuda (c) 2006
tell you I'm doing fine. I'm married now and I
got a kid. I wanted to let you know I turned out
alright."
it was strange to hear her voice
it had been years and a lifetime away
a little girl from the bricks
I barely remembered her, a tall skinny
girl that worn her shorts too short
and her tops too tight over barely
budding breasts,
she didn't have a father or a brother
or anyone that cared to look after her
instead she had me,
"when you caught me with Robert that
night, I figured you thought I was a little
whore or something."
I remembered the night, teenagers doing
what teenagers do and she thought I would
label her a whore at thirteen,
"no, sandi, I never thought that."
but she did, for ten years and all the
crap that comes with growing up, she
carried that image in her head and
looked forward to the day when she
would call me and tell me she had
done alright and somehow purge her
soul of all the cruel self-talk that
made her try so hard,
"I love you baby and I'm so proud of you."
sobbing she said "I'll call again."
I knew she wouldn't and she hasn't,
we rarely visit the graves of the dead.
J. Masuda (c) 2006
