I remember, my Young Fox
Everyone remembers their tale,
but do they remember mine?
I was there long before she came.
I’m not jealous of her.
She isn’t anything I couldn’t be.
I may be hot-headed, but
never jealous.
I’m hurt
with wounds that cut deeper
than skin can go.
I took care of my young fox,
yet he forgot about me so quickly
when she came.
Am I really that forgettable?
I remember my home,
a flourishing forest with
a strong timber in the center.
My friends, always pestering me
for wearing the same olive drabbed dress
to match my messy, untamed bun.
I remember my job there,
finding lost things,
using them to make something new.
I remember meeting him,
a young fox who never dreamt of growing up
and lived in a far away land with his loyal leash.
I remember their excitement
when I shared my grainy powder,
which can make believers glide through the air.
I remember battling alongside my brothers
against the one-handed bandit and his dysfunctional crew.
Who could forget when she came,
a girl who was anything but darling
and my young fox took to her like a bee to honey.
I remember them holding hands,
flying around our home.
Him, looking at her
the way he used to look at me,
ignoring my warnings
because he didn’t remember us.
But I remember.
I remember it all.
Now I lie here,
Getting all too familiar
With this man in black,
Can you tell me
where I can find my young fox?
Where is he now?
Tell me,
does he know that
I’m almost out of fight?
Please, sweet Angel of Death,
let me see my young fox
one more time before
my soul is claimed.
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"Everyone remembers their tale, / but do they remember mine? / I was there long before she came. / I’m not jealous of her. / She isn’t anything I couldn’t be. / I may be hot-headed, but / never jealous. / I’m hurt / with wounds that cut deeper / than skin can go. / I took care of my young fox, / yet he forgot about me so quickly / when she came. / Am I really that forgettable?"
Yes to all of this. I've experienced this before and I know how this feels.
"She isn’t anything I couldn’t be." This line by itself. Really hits me. I'm not sure why but it just shows the fickleness of attraction sometimes. People can morph into other people, but others will always have their preferences.
The ending took a dark turn. What were you going for there?
(btw, i am also a fan of the messy bun. it never fails)
This isn't my favorite piece by you. Possibly because I got lost in all the anologies with the fox, the Angel of Death, the powder = drugs, I found myself thinking a lot about the elements as i was reading them.
Keep writing =)