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                      Seventeen Years

                      Published by Katrina Kaye at March 19, 2022
                      Categories
                      • Poetry
                      Tags
                      • accident
                      • dream
                      • loss
                      • school crush
                      background road with a woman dream floating

                      Image created onCanva

                      In my dream you were alive.

                      I saw you:
                      a broken man with a crooked smile
                      telling me
                      it’s been seventeen years.
                      You’ve been looking for me
                      for seventeen years.
                      You’ve been in love with me
                      for seventeen years.

                      It’s been seventeen years since
                      your spine cracked upon impact.
                      It was just one of those things
                      that happened, an accident.
                      No one’s fault.
                      No one
                      to shoulder the blame.

                      In my dream, I look for the book
                      you gave me, the only thing
                      you ever gave me, hungry for a signature
                      scrawled on the first page.
                      Your j’s look
                      like g’s in fast black ink.

                      It has been seventeen years
                      since we raced the halls together.
                      A good kid who smiled too much.
                      A chip of broken tile and notes passed by girls.

                      You never should have become a name
                      smeared to the highway.
                      Never should have been anything more than
                      a fond memory,
                      a high school crush,
                      a missed connection.

                      Now,
                      you survive in the pit of my stomach,
                      and despite a promise of pleasant reminiscence,
                      the dream shifts to the crack of a skeleton,
                      the shattering of front teeth.
                      I can’t trade this image
                      for a kinder one.
                      It haunts me.
                      It haunts me still.

                      More than anything in the world,
                      I want to find you,
                      to call you,
                      to write you a message in my
                      sloppy script assuring you
                      some things never die.
                      But
                      you are already lost to me.

                      This is how I wake,
                      chasing rabbits and following sparrows.
                      At a loss for what I cannot quite reach.
                      You were always the elusive one.

                      So, I lay here, and endure.

                      It is as sweet as
                      the Sunday morning
                      we never shared.


                      Need more good reads? Get your fix:

                      • Sharp Edges – Poetry
                      • Loneliness Gardens Loneliness – Poetry
                      • Senior – Poetry
                      • There Isn’t Language for This – Short Essay
                      • Just Taking Out the Trash – Poetry
                      • Skywalker 4 – Poetry
                      • Emma’s Place Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 – Fiction
                      • Mondays – Micro-essay
                      • Traveling Back in Time with Outlander – Literary Travel
                      • Closing Chapter on Friendship – Things I Wish I Had Said
                      • Ripe with Anxiousness – Nostalgia Flash Fiction
                      Katrina Kaye
                      + postsBio

                      Katrina Kaye is a writer and educator living in Albuquerque, NM. She hoards her published writings on her website ironandsulfur.com and is seeking an audience for her ever-growing surplus of poetic meanderings. She is grateful to anyone who reads her work and in awe of those willing to share it.

                      Follow Katrina on Twitter, Facebook, or her website.

                        This author does not have any more posts.

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                      2 Comments

                      1. The Dead of Night - MockingOwl Roost Poetry Corner says:
                        March 26, 2022 at 4:30 pm

                        […] Seventeen Years […]

                        Reply
                      2. The Dead of Night, a Poem says:
                        February 12, 2024 at 2:19 pm

                        […] Seventeen Years […]

                        Reply

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