12th january, 2015
a cold evening and his warm eyes
fingers lingered on my cheek and on my tangled hair
the fingers that a day before promised me over snapchat
a promise, that the eleven year old us thought would cherish
a promise of memories
a promise of link
of
hearts
as
pure
as
nectar
slow forwarding a day
when he bunked his football after class
and came for me
and under the tinted pink sky
cold wind on my hair and warm lips on mine
the promise of a first kiss by eleven year olds
a cherished memory that years after passes by
