he doesn't give me butterflies. his touch doesn't set my skin on fire. his gaze doesn't paint my cheeks crimson. the darkness behind my eyelids doesn't morph into his smile. my heart doesn't flutter in response to his presence.
but somehow, it doesn't need to. i'll still wait for my phone to chirp in response to his unspoken words, i'll still grasp on to the compliments he feeds me as if he knows how desperately my existence depends upon them, i'll still dream about the things we could be.
i'm too young for love just as i'm too young to drink and too young to drive and too young to walk around the shadowed streets of a foreign town on my own at night. but i still need to be loved, to feel loved, to feel wanted just like those who are old enough to drink and old enough to drive and old enough to walk around the shadowed streets of a foreign town on their own at night.
in a way, it already feels like i am walking down a shadowed street on my own at night. there is no muted orange glow of the streetlights to guide me, and there is no familiarity in the cracked grey pavements my feet tread upon gingerly. the darkness of the night is starting to seep into the lining of my skin and i need his light to kill the dark. this is all new to me, but i am ready to embrace the unknown.
he holds the shattered pieces of my heart in his hands until i am strong enough to piece them together and move on to the things i want to be, the people i want to know, the things i will become. one day i will brush him off my shoulder with a small laugh, but for now his shoulder is the only thing i want my head to rest upon.
YOU ARE READING
Daisy Chains
Teen Fiction❝ we're just fumbling through the grey, trying to find a heart that's not walking away. ❞ [ a collection of drabbles, musings and poetry ]
