For The Eleven Years I Knew You, By Stephanie Meeusen

I

I do not remember what it felt like to be first touched,

but I am told it was by you.

II

One day we walked to shop.

I was small, yet I leapt up inside

when you saw my hair reflected in the window

and called me your Golden Girl.

III

Then there were two times my small heart broke:

I saw your figure through the half opened door.

You sat and smiled for the last time

in the quiet space of your room.

The second time I sat near you on the bed

and you whispered incoherent advice.

IV

We knew you had to leave

either by chance or design.

So you went.

And the seams of our perfect world are bursting

until all will be made right again.

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