Graphic & Web Design | Desirai Labrada

Being back home, reading old letters, seeing old friends, it’s all leading back to old pieces of me. Some pieces are unrecognizable while others are vague memories. Who did I used to be? Who am I now? A changed person that’s for sure. I wanted inner peace and I’m so much closer to it now than I was three years ago. I was a worrier, sometimes (a lot of times) to the point I gave myself anxiety. I meet people like that rather often now. I wish I could give them a piece of advice they’d believe. It took a while to believe it myself, but all these changes I’ve made, they were conscious decisions. Decisions to stop worrying, to stop thinking and vocalizing my insecurities, to stop freaking about all the little things that kept happening to me that were beyond my control, and lastly the decision to believe that everything in my life is the product of a conscious decision.

It’s so strange to look back at things I’ve said, written and experienced. So weak and so helpless, who was that person?

I just found an old poem I posted on an a message board in 2003. Although deep down I knew it was my creation I still couldn’t help but think; Did I really write this? Who was it about? What was thinking or feeling at the time? Hey this is pretty good…

That last thought is must amusing to me considering I vaguely remember not liking the poem when I first wrote it. Now however, as a different person, I’d like to share.

A Collection of “If Only”-ies by Desirai Labrada

If I could burn
Memories like leaves
I’d stack them real high
And set them ablaze

Watching the smoke as it rises
The ashes as they fall
Hoping and praying
The wind would just carry them away

But memories of you
Are like snowflakes
I catch with my mouth
That melt on my tongue

I’m so thirsty
Still wanting to drink of you
Though these limited snowflakes
Just aren’t enough

If I could break
Memories like glass
I’d be sure to recycle
And make something new

I’d make something useful
So that the original is forgotten
And I’d pretend
It’s what I’ve always wanted

But memories of you
Are like fine china
That waits behind protective glass
For those special occasions

Painted with perfection
It’s beauty unmatched
Collecting in dust
Yet rising in value

If I could throw away
Memories like garbage
I’d tie up a bag full
and leave it out on the street

It would wait there alone
In the cold, in the rain
To be picked up by someone
And I’d be absolved of my pain

But memories of you
Are like diamonds
Which cut straight through glass
Unintentionally sparkling, they get my attention

If only I could afford you
I’d make you my own
I wouldn’t get rid of these memories
That make me feel so alone

If only I could pay
With my talent, intelligence and wit
But I still can’t afford you
As for this bag full of memories, well – I’m just not done with it.