Young Love
My fingers are laced together behind your neck as if my two hands are holding onto each other for safety,
The numbness within them seems to increase as my nails dig deep into my skin and create the simple color of white upon my flesh.
I feel my insides twist and turn with the fear of losing you once again,
Your hands waver uncertainly on my waist like they did when we were in middle school and had no clue what love was.
I am very much aware of the way that you look down at your feet every few seconds to make sure they do not accidentally step on mine,
Just like you used to make them do on purpose so you could hear my laugh and whisper in my ear that it was your favorite song.
I find myself wishing that you will pull me closer to drive away the seemingly mocking void that lies between us.
You spin me carefully and I find that this time my hair does not spin with me, but instead hangs limp around my face of carefully hidden disappointment.
We are dancing around the topic of the love that we believe we have misplaced.
As I come twirling back to you and watch you prepare to catch me, I see that you have outstretched your arms to keep me at a distance from you
And your heart.
I decide that this love is not laying on the ground where we dropped it, waiting patiently for us to pick it back up again.
It is clear to me that this love has instead been broken, torn apart and thrown away like the notes that you would leave in my locker every day before my first class, so I would think about you all day long.
Even now that I know the notes are far away, you are still in my mind,
Day after day,
Night after night,
And I feel as if maybe I still love you after all
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