Unnamed

The cold air rustles the leaves underneath the bench that her long, gangly legs are propped up on. Her bottom, placed on the cold earth directly in front of the bench, is dirty; underneath her are moss and leaves, trapped, screaming to be released. She watches the tracks; the tracks that can lead her to nowhere or somewhere depending on where the train takes her or where she takes the train. She scoots her bottom towards the left, releasing the crumpled leaves and creating a burial ground for dirt and scum. Her feet twist themselves around each other keeping her bare toes warm from the cold air. Her skirt tumbles down to her knees showing her gawky and skinny legs. She reaches forward, her back taking the time to let the gas gasp out of her bones, creating a popping noise. She smiles as the release of gas creates a soothing feeling along her spine. She raises herself up, her scrawny arms straining under her weight, letting her feet fall in front of her. Off of the bench at last; she looks at her bare feet and holds her toes lightly in her hands, trying to rub off the dirt but also keeping them warm. She takes a hold of a surviving leaf and holds it gently in her hands caressing its beauty. She turns her head just in time to see the train pumping its way into the station. People begin to bustle around her and she jumps up quickly, her skirt falling to full length she quickly wipes the dead leaves from her bottom. She grabs her only belonging, a blanket, and rushes into the warm train doors. She hurries to a seat next to a window. This place of nowhere or somewhere will come soon and she was ready to see it. Her head hits the window sill and she begins to drone off into a conscience sleep. Her eyes begin to close and, before she falls into the world of dreaming, she sees the surviving leaves wave to her as the cold wind rushes them away as quickly as the train chugs her forward to this somewhere or nowhere place. 1

-------2

Leaves can walk beneath feet3

Burning of ashes, growing to the depths of nothing4

Some leaves are soft, placid and beautiful5

Some are dark, dead, dull.6

All search for the one place to relax7

Under a tree, or in a bush. 8

Only to be burned alive, never to be the9

Soft gentle blanket, barricading the bountiful10

Grass from winter storms.11

Just like a cold house,12

Blankets are saviors13

Keeping feet and hands warm with 14

Ample amounts of space15

Saving ligaments from harsh winds or16

Dreadful snow17

Blankets can be forgotten, leaves18

That could save or burn19

Or just walk beneath, will be shredded from20

Life.21

Beneath feet of sullied mess, hoping the grass will last22

Keeping everything warm for their wintertime,23

Regardless of sins.24

Leaves can be friends, waving25

Or saying hello to lonely26

fellows, bushes. But only to see27

That the leaf is a blanket28

Waving to keep warm to29

Keep the extremities from being taken away30

Like the leaves,31

Caught in life, and out of sight32

Burning alive for the sake of warmth.33

------34

She didn’t see the blanket poking out at first, her tiny, pudgy fingers grasping around a cloth filled present, wrapped in soft paper that had tiny photographs of a fake Santa, resembling Christmas or wintertime. Her fingers wrap around a string as she tries her best to smile, and expecting another sweater or shirt. She looks up expectantly at her mother whose smile brightens as the string releases, unfolding the paper at last. She looks down at a white, furry yet conserved blanket. The outer edges were frayed, beautiful waves of bordering making the blanket complete. It was the perfect size- not too small to provide one side of her body to be frozen, but not too big where she swam in an ocean of blankets. It was small, of course. Her body was small; being only three years old and smaller than the other kids will create this tiny problem. 35

She huddles in her bed, now seventeen, scared, and alone in her new bedroom, fifty miles away from her old bedroom, her old life. The blanket is much too small, unable to provide necessary warmth or any warmth at all. And the blanket is battered- holes gaping as big as her head, and spills of food and various other products that have been around her in the past fourteen years. She rolls over, her side sore from moving the large objects that were unable to be moved by anyone bigger than her. She holds her blanket, cuddling the holes and the memories that followed after receiving it from her mom. With her eyes tightly closed, sleep comes quickly to her body; her cerebellum slowly shuts itself down for a night of revising, of fixing her past events. She turns again, her new bed much smaller than her old one, and falls off, a box of books clanking her head roughly, thumping her memory and sending her into times past, her hidden secrets. She rolls her eyes shut, dreaming of those people who hurt her, who saved her, and who affected her lifetime, and why she is where she is now.36

------37

Blood clots, just like memories38

Blurred beneath the cerebellum, creating a masterpiece39

Of broken thoughts, broken hearts.40

Blood spills, filling the neglect of 41

Emptiness, filling the shoes of42

Little girls whose sandals are too big43

Whose feet grow too44

Quickly.45

Blood aches, just like the legs of growing up46

Growing old with the first bicycle, the first vehicle.47

Not creating the memories, just surviving48

Them.49

Time can pass by quickly, 50

My dear, 51

So take the time to see me52

To see my feet grow, my sandals reach the limit53

Of not fitting, of my childhood disappearing.54

Don’t take me for granted, because I’ll be in55

College as soon as I reach the knowledge of56

How things don’t matter, isn’t really drama.57

So it goes.58

You can harm me, but never break me. For59

I am here, surviving this60

Evolution of beings, this hierarchy of life61

Elizabeth won’t care, me jumping from62

My drop to hell63

Back up to my place; an angel that survived64

You.65

---------66

Her feet pounce with the rubber underneath of her, her body soaring high into the sky. Squeals of excitement, fright and laughter jump out of her throat, and out into the air particles that surround her; a larger being making her flight grow higher with each try. Her eight-year old but much smaller body is flown quickly into the air with each pounce by her friend. She has always been on the small side, no matter what age she has been. Perhaps it was all of the coffee she drank when she was five, but she wasn’t sure. Either way, her boney body made a perfect eating-machine and bouncing ball. Trampolines were the best, because she could flip, and create a wonderful show for her friend’s parents. Her friend, on the plump and larger side, never experienced this high flight of skinniness that she experiences every day. 67

The last affectionate gift that she ever received was her blanket, already torn in some places, and withering away at the beautiful bordering. It lies safely in her bedroom every night, resting across her bed, her night savior. She wasn’t sure when she started being afraid of the dark, but she believes it was the first night that her trust was broken. The man that she called giant, the man that betrayed her trust before anyone else could. The neighbors said that he was hit in the head as a child, and that it wasn’t his fault he made mistakes. She wasn’t sure to believe the neighbors, and didn’t like being around any male figure. His touches didn’t mean anything to her, except that her trust and ultimate childhood was ended much too early. 68

Her hands land quickly on the ground as she jumps off of the trampoline, landing perfectly on all four, like a feline. Her friend had gone inside for some water, and she was ready to go home before any chance alone with an adult, or man ever had the chance to happen. She grabs her dirty sandals and runs across the yard, yelling over her shoulder that she’d be back later. She had to get away, from him, from adults, and from her childhood dreams that will never come true. 69

-------70

Water fills cups, and fills the 71

Stomach of those whose tongues are72

Sinned with dryness73

With the sandstone itch that will not74

Disappear.75

Trust can fill the lives of people76

Or break, like sandstone and itch away77

At the people whose trust is broken.78

Jump up and get it, dear, because it will79

Hurt if you don’t grab it while it’s near80

But either way, it will grab you by the horns, and grow81

Just like hair, it cuts it nurtures82

Like grass, the summertime creates new memories83

Suffer through the sun, more disasters, more creations84

But it will happen;85

Trust.86

Bonding like father and son, mother87

And daughter.88

Even when all else fails, there will always be him89

The one who saves, who creates90

New beginning, new time to catch the childhood by the string of91

The new jacket, when winter surprises 92

Each day with a new snowflake, a new identity93

A new conversation that94

Fills the life of a child, the life of an adult95

Creates new feelings and new ideas96

Shows that time can stand still97

Like seconds that pass by, even when98

A friend is saving a life, a heart.99

He can save, like an angel of trust.100

Whipping away the confusion and disloyalty from others.101