I miss being the rebel I used to be…
I miss when things were new to me…
I miss being a writer of poetry…
I miss believing everything would turn out
just as I had always dreamed…
I miss being the eternal boy, the dreamer,
the rambler who used to travel far and wide…
I miss the wonder that I used to have
whenever I looked up at the sky…
I miss being the one who could
always see constant reasons
to stay hopeful and optimistic all around me…
I miss the spark, I miss the joy,
I miss the feeling, I miss the memories
that feel as if they have been eclipsed
by darkness and pain…
I miss simplicity, I miss that which
used to make me smile
and unable to stop me from jumping out of bed
every morning to see what the new day again
had in store for me…
I miss feeling whole, full,
and as if I could leap free of gravity
and touch something that for others
seemed unfathomable and out of reach…
I miss yesterday, I miss the promise of a better tomorrow…
I miss those times when I could close my eyes
and hear my own heart beating in my chest
and I could feel the warmth of the one closest to me -
but the last of those times has long since past
and that version of my feels like a distant memory…
I miss feeling unbroken…
I miss the days gone by when I felt as free as a bird…
I miss feeling open…
I miss who I was before the mirror of my mind
and the reflection of my inner self was shattered
at the instant that my connection to the world
felt as if it was inextricably severed.