twenty. [stereotypical possibilities]

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Just seventeen years

And already we were

the stereotypical possibility 

of romance.


The stereotypical rain,

Stereotypical hand-holding,

torn edges 

of our hearts.


And then

You stood there,

Alone and unsure of what to do.

Rain pouring down,

Trapped under the sheltered breezeway

Leading up to the

Blue painted lockers.

Fresh blue paint for the new year.


But you were there

Next to yourself.

Should I have been there instead?


I kept my distance


But still I couldn't help 

but to

Glance over at you.

Being equally unsure.

Not just unsure of what to do

But how to think,

How to feel.


(I didn't know how to feel.)


It broke my heart

To see you break

And ache 

and have to fake a smile

because of me.


But I think I'll fake a smile at you too. 

And we'll be all right.

We'll look back

And we'll laugh.

Because 

"Even though it was sore then,

We made it this far."


We can make it that far.

We will make it that far.

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