A Dollhouse in the Attic

Some wise people
Have told me
Not to worry so much
About what will happen
To my heart.
They assure me that one day
I will fall out of love
And suddenly feel relieved,
Free from all this mess.
The thing is,
Falling sounds unpleasant,
And risky, at best.

Instead I pray
To grow out of love
As I did with my favorite party dress,
And the jeans my big sister gave me,
So that I may look at old pictures
Of my memories
To see comfort and sturdiness,
And the way I seem to
Radiate confidence
From my very insides.

I want to grow out of this love
Like I grew out of truth or dare
When my life became complicated and exciting enough
Without making it into a game.

I want this love to be like my favorite books
That I will reopen
On frosty winter days
To lose myself again in the
Twisting plot and the familiar dialogue.

This love will be the dollhouse in the attic
I can share with my children on rainy days
Or show to new friends when I explain to them
How I got to be me.

I wont fall out of this love.
I will not stumble, or jump,
And leave it all behind.
But some time soon,
While out walking in the woods
I might yet smile a secret smile and think
“Those were the days.”

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~ by ettaqueen on January 15, 2011.

One Response to “A Dollhouse in the Attic”

  1. Love. or a reasonable fascimile thereof.

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