{ 光 } ━ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟣𝟩𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 ( fin )

♛: dear seventeen

Dear Seventeen

How many bridges burnt?

                                                       Doors left ajar-

only to be closed again.

If age is just a number

then a number is just a label,

For maturity has grown beyond

its years.

How tricky is innocence?

They said: Wait, be patient.

Now untied shoelaces doesn't seem so bad,

Mud smudged across the smiling face of bloom,

glue on sticky fingers,

tripping with laughter.

Why is the door still left ajar?

Close it for a little while longer.

I'll wait patiently in the mud some more

with sticky fingers, stuck on the knob.

Treasuring onto memories of my youth.

Onto the very real things that made me trip with laughter.

⚛︎⚛︎⚛︎

ya, so I started a new book, oops.