Not like I need it back. But once there was a home for me.
There was a room for me, in my colors, with my music playing.
There was an empty space, all mine, I could step back into.
If I'd ever wanted.
I don't.
And it's not like I didn't know, didn't see, didn't feel you,
Step into my space.
But it bothers me, it irritates me, it annoys me.
It hurts me.
That's my fault.
I wrapped it up in pretty paper, gave it to you as a gift.
Didn't believe you'd ever use it.
I hate it in your hand.
Not because I miss it.
But because it's me in there, it's everything I am.
All my secrets, tragedies, victories.
It's power.
And now it's yours.
But it's more than that - it's responsibility.
And now it's yours.
Yours to do with as you wish.
And someday you may give it away to someone else.
Or maybe just tear it up and throw it away.
You can.
But once I gave you a gift,
To which neither of us the had the right.
It was my space.
That has to mean something now.....
Because nothing else does.
9/23/00