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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YOU ARE READING
»scatter-minded«
Poetrywe laugh, we cry. we love, we hate. we live, we breathe, we feel. life is said to be a roller-coaster ride, a puzzle, a journey, a story. and sometimes all that's needed is a little pause, to take a breath and contemplate all of its little matters...