JUTURNA

I remember walking down the wide road when I was five and I saw a girl at the end of the narrow intersection. She was beautiful. I ran to her, losing three breaths with every step. And, before I knew it I was kissing the tar road and the girl was gone and my knees were scraped. I can hear the birds chirping in the sky like they are trying to call my name in a hush. There were old musics playing in the distant. Everything reminded me of how things could have been different in the past. The houses were dead silent so I guess seraphim are singing in heaven.

When I was twelve, I was scared to death if my old self would knock at my door and I don't recognize me. I was different when I was six and when I was six, I wasn't me. The people from my past doesn't know me that well. I wonder if I meet them tomorrow will they ask me about yesterday? Those days when I still replay my whole playlist when I missed one song. I don't like remembering the places I built. Some people made it graves of dead memories like they didn't mean it. My delicate hands turned rough because I kept digging corpse all those years. I wear the bones as necklaces that clacked everytime I walk as I try hard to remember whose voices is it.

Right now, I am almost fifteen and I am standing in the middle of the road with fast cars passing by my sides. I remember all the selves I used to be, the ones I changed like skins throughout the endless summers without hesitation. I do not want to be pulled to the roadside or to be the old me anymore because I never believed that history will repeat itself but I feel her cold hand tight around my wrist and I am me again. The me that sigh on rainy days because the infinite raindrops failed to cleanse the little dirt from my past that is etched all over my skin.