Is he gone?

A child within me looks up from a nest of blankets

I look into his confused eyes

Melting into a puddle of legos

My vision yearns for the colors of the jungle gym at the playground

I spend nights wishing for the squish of my tiny feet onto the padded ground

My ears yearn for the stupid exaggerated stories told for attention

I find myself exactly where I remember

In the playgrounds

On the wet grass

I feel nothing but uncomfortable at the snot dripping from the noses of children,

At the toys being haphazardly thrown across the room

At the wrestling matches on the carpet

At the honesty of words that hurt

My bite yet again gains an extra row of metal teeth

I slip back into what I now know

Paper swirls like a tornado around me

Laughs vanish from mouths

I look down at the child inside

A figure lies in a nest of bloodstained blankets

“Hey little fella

Are you gone?”

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