There was a time in my life when the loss of innocence would have broken my heart –
pulsing with ache and sadness for the sweetness of naivety,
crushed under the weight of knowing some things can never be regained.
Loss doesn’t happen all at once, you don’t wake up one morning to find it gone –
though, sometimes I think it would be better that way;
rather it’s stolen in small moments, disappearing so slowly
that you don’t realize it’s gone until it’s too late to catch
as it soars away – a balloon lost to the wind.
If I had known, I would have held it tightly, clenched in a sticky fist to my chest,
and kept it there against my beating heart, guarded;
safe and kept like breath that fogs a cool window,
turning to drops of water and lingering in safety
of knowing it has no change to endure that is not its own.