I imagine you
with your laced-up boots marching
to the day’s upbeat drum
carefree, full of peace and fortitude.
I imagine you
laughing in the driver’s seat
belting out holiday lyrics
over little hands clapping rhythms
behind you.
I imagine you
holding onto the sun
in photographic celebrations
of dancing in every moonlight dusk,

but I know my imagination
will eventually remember the you
who went missing
just past the hallway,
sobbing in the dark
over unfilled onesies
and empty shoes.

I remember the you that lives
running reckless in search of death,
holding onto numbing devices and habits
to suppress and punish the you
who hides from dawn to dark,
the one who puts on a face in the morning
to cover the mountain of shame
and the tidepools of guilt
that exist in every clocktick of time
between the little one
who will never feel
warm beach sand sliding between toes
or see the golden rays of a sunset,
between the little one
who you will never meet in this world
and the you
who paid a bribe
to steal a newborn cry,
the you
who crushed a life like a consequence,
the you inside you
who you will always be forced to know.