Clear Clare Clarity

Clear…Clare… Clarity...
I seek to find her, to see her one last time outside of the vision I have of her in my mind. We were basically raised together; lived right next door to each other in fact. As I look back, the most memorable memory I had of her was that...

Every night I would wake up from a nightmare to find her on my rooftop waiting to be let into my little window. And every time she came to that window our ritual would begin. I would give her the same glare that said "NO NO NO NO, your not coming in." But with every glare I gave her, Clare would respond without hesitation by shining her smile upon me. An encapsulating , enchanting, extravagant smile. A smile that always- like the strong man I was- made my yeses be yes, and my no's' be...well... she made those yeses too. 

Well this secretive ceremony lasted from when we were just kids to when I grew into a guy's guy. You know what I'm talking about right? Right around the first time when you were clearly told that you had to have been a fag to not be hitting that. And as I walked away prepared to show the guys just how much of a faggot I wasn't, their words gave me a flash back to the good times before that comment. 

 And as I reflect back, I actually remember one time that she had offered me an opportunity to touch and feel the fullness of her content. To which I firmly and absolutely said… no. Cause I didn't need to touch her body to feel her glow...I still don't know why she made that offer. Maybe at the time she was getting pressured by the confusion sisters down the street, or getting laughed at by her older compromising cousin that came to her families Christmas once a year. All I know is that when I looked at her face the day she made that offer and saw her tears, I knew I never again wanted to see her make such a shameful face of that kind. 

Yet, as we flash-forward to my attempt to prove my manhood by forcefully trying to seduce her, I am shocked to see her face rewind right back to that painful time. Speechless... I step away. Wanting with all of my breath to say... "God Clare so I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I have become. I couldn't resist following in the steps of my bloodline. After all, I'm conformity's son." But I can see in the eyes of Clare that it's clear the damage is done. As she slaps me and runs, leaving pain shooting across my face and leaving my soul... numb…

Since then out of shame I've shed my family name. But yet still she hasn't returned. Despite how I’ve grown since then and despite all I’ve learned. So if you’re hearing this clear, than Clare...
Please come back to me
Please come back to thee
Please come back to be
My clarity...

The Movement Continues...

- Rhetorical Artz