Written age 15.
I heard you whispering in my indecisive ear,
Indulgent things I wanted to hear,
Repetitive things we wished were true.
But we are too young.
We wouldn't have it any other way.
The sun shone down on us when we watched them fall,
When we thought that we were untouchable because we didn't exist,
We laughed as we spun tales to the world with our lips.
I don't want you, I don't want anyone anymore. I promise.
The pavement feels hot to my bare white feet,
As we stare at them growing older,
In a tie to one another with commitment and pain
with an established title and wandering eyes and blame.
Were far too young, so
I forgot to tell you that I'd have you or not all the same.
Either way your hands are suddenly far from mine.