The day that I left home

You were beautiful
that one time
I took a picture of you
wearing dad's old cowboy hat
and leaning out the window
with the breeze.
I took your picture,
freezing forever
your toothy smile
and the dusty smell
of our overrun backyard.

You were beautiful
that one time
we sat on our front lawn,
the big pine tree protecting us
from the summer heat.
You told me you had a
secret and I had to promise
to tell no one,
not even the big pine tree or
mama's thorny roses.
I told you I wouldn't
If you wouldn't.

You were beautiful
that one time
before I left home for good
and I kissed you on your head
and your eyes were filled
with more secrets and stories
I didn't know.
I was scared and terrified of this
but you waved goodbye
like I would be back
tomorrow.

You were gone
that one time
I came back home
and you were sitting on the couch.
Your limbs had stretched
and your hair had grown so long,
that i couldn't see your eyes.
When you talked to me
it was like a badly recorded tape,
scratchy and hard to hear.
I was scared and terrified of
this person
and when I asked
him if he had told anyone
your secrets
he replied yes,
the day that I left home.