7/11

Dear First Time,

I am terrified of writing the ending.

But I’ve always felt the expiration date.

The rush of my curves beneath the sheets was no longer tending.

A stubborn love, I have forgotten how to annotate.

All it is now are memories chasing.

A boy, definitely not a waste.

Soon, my hair will fall to forget me knots and time.

Our tongues never knowing simple.

Conflicts of repeated rhymes.

But I will remember how his hidden passion made his eyes twinkle.

And memorize the angles of his fingers in the meantime too.

Sweet boy, you were my deepest enzyme.

A hard-cover love story, that is much too heavy to close.

Full of failed wonderlands only existing in my head.

Yet lessons that demanded to expose.

Through his camera lens is where he quickly fled.

For me, the ache has more late nights to go, until it reaches my toes.

“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be,” they said.  

- C.