Childhood Crush

Your childhood crush,

some may even say your first love. 

The perfect mix of friendly hellos in the elementary school hallways 

and homemade paper valentines made specially for them. 

The love was so pure and innocent,

driven soley by shy feelings and eager friends

passing along the messages between the two of you.

The sticky hand holding at recess,

behind the playground where the teachers wont see.

But then they grow up, 

Holding hands turns into sex,

sending valentines turns into sending nudes,

and passing notes turns into passing joints.

The sweet innocent crush that fills your childhood

is now the stoner whos body count exceeds more than your zero.

Do you ever wish you could go back?

Hand deliver this poem with a heart shaped dove chocolate

just like you did on valentines day?

All those years ago.

I shouldn't even be writing this 

because the new you doesn't deserve a poem.

But everytime I look at you,

I see the third grader who asked me for a hug at the end of recess

who filled my innocent body with butterflies.

Then reality sets back in 

because you smell like marijuana 

and you no longer send me notes to tell me I'm the prettiest girl 

in the third grade class

and I can no longer check yes in the box to say I like you back.

It's not like that anymore.

It's confusing because you now hit me up when you're bored

because you know I'm the one person who will always respond,

who would never leave you hanging. 

Because even though I will deny it in every other situation 

you where my first love,

and it hurts too much to see who you've become.

And I just can't love who you've become. 

Because even though we're older,

I don't want sex and drugs.

I want you to hug me,

and hold my hand,

and fill my body with butterflies.

And I know you can't do that,

not anymore.

But it's okay

because we all move on,

and I found someone that can.

I know you see me and him 

I know some small part of you cares 

even though you will never admit it. 

But that's fine.

Because sometimes,

when I close my eyes,

we're kids again

And you're handing me the valentine you made specially for me

and you,

you fill me with butterflies.

It's just not like that anymore.