Forbearance | a book of forgotten poems

Just a Little Bit Longer

Just a little bit longer.

I would say my childhood is much like the freshly cut flowers sitting on my bedside table. They have since lost their color and their sweet scent, and I am aware they've died a long while ago. But yet here I am, still trying to keep them alive even just for a little bit longer.
Adding more water to the vase as if a little bit of love can save them. And here I am, itching to keep my childhood alive just a little bit longer.
Maybe looking through the old photo albums and watching my favorite animated movies from years ago will somehow stretch out the final 8 months until I turn 18.
And now there's a mug of hot chocolate that sits beside my computer, the endless tabs of college application and scholarship contests open.
And I know the hot chocolate has gone cold long ago, but yet here I am still sipping the roots of my youth. Hoping that I can make the taste of childhood last even just a little bit longer.
Maybe getting my mother to make my favorite meal one last time will bring back the sense of joy it once did when I tried it the first time.
And now there are dirty dishes in the sink from my attempts at bringing back that nostalgic feeling of learning to use the stove alongside my mom.
And I know there is no one here to do the dishes that have been sitting there for so long. But I'm hoping I can once again feel the sensation of my childhood even just a little bit longer.
The sheets are freshly changed on my bed, as I remember all the nightmares that lead to sleeping in my mothers arms.
And I invite you to join me in my slumber, wrapping your arms around my torso in an embrace as my mom once did to calm me.
And I am aware you are not my mom, there are no monsters under the bed and nothing will get me in my sleep. But I'm thinking I can feel the warmth of childhood even just a little bit longer.