Young

We are not a metaphor. 

 

Although, we have met before

I was a shy girl with bright blue eyes and you were a brown haired boy who played guitar on the bus

We grew up and grew together, inseparable

Unaware of what to call what we were, what we had

 

This was back when childhood was innocent and we still weren't sure how to kiss

 

Lips, mouths, necks, hands

We figured things out one by one

As if ticking each body part off on a to-do list

We just weren't sure how to do this

 

 

Now five years on, we've ticked off those lists with different people

Softer lips, angrier mouths, tanned necks, cold hands

And I found a way to learn, on my own, too

As if you and I, me and you, did not exist, I brushed past the memories like branches on a forest walk, knowing you were there in my mind but I would not allow you to encompass me on my travels

I have a destination to find

A path I must follow

 

So as you step back into my life, becoming more of a tree than a branch, I vow to remember

 

boys will be boys

and girls

can be liars

childhoodgrowing uplovemetaphoryoung love

◄ Overcome

Bittersweet ►

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