I am from sweet milk and honey in early summer,
The soft flavor dancing across my lips.
From lullabies on the cassette player,
The low hum of a tape being spun around and around.
I am from the sting of a freshly scraped knee,
And from the tears that followed, tickling my cheeks.
I am from the musky air of the endless forest after a storm.
I am from blurry eye charts to thick-rimmed, high-definition glasses.

I’m from “speak up”s and “calm down”s,
From the clandestine whispers and tears of those who love me,
And from words that cut through my heart like a knife.
I am from secret smiles and private promises,
Broken brown eyes in an eternal state of repair.
I am from the burning out of a childlike fire.