And The World Doesn’t Agree With Me

My time is 15.
I am round cheeks
and naked with definition.
I don’t know how to hide under
the thick film that buries me later.

He is built with reddish, muddy hair.
He flares and expands in size,
greater than any other young torso.
I watch him hold hands with Grace
and Innocence, I listen to him
sing with rebellion and defiance.
He strums, and he strums me along
to the quiet, unexposed nights.

My time is 16,
and he has left. He has found liberty;
liberty, or abandon.
I have found a stuffy old pharmacy.
I sit on sidewalks eating tiny tablets, remembering
abandon from times: 8, 9, and 10; it is
sadly comfortable,
like I am with him.

3 months later, he brings back the East Coast.
His air is accented and tired,
thick for me to breathe.
He smells like 15, though, and he tastes like
the cigarette we shared on the night he left.
He brought himself and his guitar
just to me,
and he strings, and he strings me along
to the quiet, prudish night for two more weeks,
and then he is gone.

Now, I listen to the music,
to motorcycles drive by
my dark basement, with strings that
I will learn to play later.
Not yet, it is not time for me yet.

Right now, the film is building.
Right now, I am being defined.
Abandon has timed itself, lined perfectly
with my over-exposed skin.
I need him.

Now.
Later.
I need him.
I will,

and the world will never agree with me
and nobody believes me.

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19 thoughts on “And The World Doesn’t Agree With Me

    1. awww…thanks so much Cedelle, and you know what…No matter how close to the past you are, you are still different and changing and growing and I bet you are adorable and amazing and wonderful 🙂 Thank you so very much for the award sweetheart!

    1. Hi. Thanks so much Sarah! I am going to go back to this page and read what you have to say. On my way out the door right now! But thanks so much for the award 🙂

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