I can’t dance, and have never been able to.
But that didn’t used to stop me.
And I can’t remember when that changed.

And I used to believe in Santa Claus,
never making it to midnight.
And waking to presents all magically arranged.

I no longer idly wonder
What a girl has, down there
Now I just know.

And I cannot remember when
the split between now and then, happened.
But the bear used to have a name,
and it used to be my friend.

There used to be monsters in the closet
and magic in my fingers.
I used to be able to fly
in my cardboard box.

But now I live here.
Where people lie to each other’s faces
and tell the truth behind their backs.

And I can’t go back.
Because I don’t know how.
And there isn’t even a way back to know.
Even as I watch others play in my sanctuary,
my Hundred Acre Wood.