Random Leaf #1887 precisely cut

I don’t want to go back. I keep rejecting

their incessant desire for me

to oblige my duty as the one favored.

But… do I really have to?

Unfiltered, the trip's a hassle.

But I don’t want to say that —

not if it makes me seem rude or disrespectful.

So I deny what they want,

and without thinking too much

about what I say next,

I always reply —

and when I say always,

I mean it.

There’s no more reason to go back to.

She wouldn’t be there for me to return to.

Back then, she’d come to me

when I needed a simple haircut.

She’d visit the city

just to cook me my favorite meals.

Oh, so few things I can remember…

Perhaps the one you always talked about —

the earliest thing you never forgot about me —

is the one thing

I truthfully have forgotten.

You said you carried me

after church back home.

I was so little, so fragile,

and so tired.

In your arms, I rested,

held with gentleness and great care.

And when we got to the front porch,

I suddenly lit up —

like all my energy came flooding back.

I jumped out of your arms

and started playing again.

(I should've said: “jovial and playful,”

beside “little and fragile.”)

I don’t remember that moment,

but I remember

how you'd hold my arm as we walked —

up the stairs, through paths

of places I can barely recall.

And maybe what I felt then

is what you felt all along.

To you, I was… and to me, you are:

fragile, meek —

but I know that’s not the only way

you saw me.

I was an unpolished gem —

so precious,

and if left unwatched,

maybe someone or something

would snatch me away.

Maybe I’m assuming,

but I know that’s what it was.

I wasn’t the favorite

for no reason.

Even if your love felt common to you,

it was extraordinary to me.

And maybe — just maybe —

that’s why I was the one loved.

Because I, too,

loved you just as much