Past few days feel like a dream
We really did that, didn’t we?
No thinking, just jumped
Held your hands,
Trusted only you
Stomach is twirling
A whole tsunami forming
From replays in my mind
Saw more than your reflection
A side never exposed before
Pearly whites won’t allow my cheeks to close
Held your hands,
Trusted only you
I don’t wanna get out of this volcano
Let it explode
And reach the heights of moving stars
Tomorrow will come
Nothing promised
So I choose today,
Thankful for the moments we lived
Holding your hand
Every step
Trusting you
And only you
About the Creator
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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