A Poem: Airplane

Take me back to the salt 

ocean waves 

of Santa Monica.

To the arms 

of an airplane

and the words

from my father. 

 

Hold my hand

when I grow afraid

of the world laid out in front of

me

and take me home

after a long, twisted day. 

 

Keep me in your arms,

when others seem to doubt me

When first place isn’t

something

I hold in their hearts.

 

Tell me that you

love who I have become

though I have

not been forgiven

by many I have hurt.

 

I miss her,

for she was whole and 

uncomplicated.

Filled to the brim and topped

with innocence—

 

I’m all burnt at the edges.