eighteen

just a couple of kids.

i don't know

what i'm doing,

where the fuck i'm going,

and you're not any better off.

an adult 

in the eyes of the law,

a child in every other way,

and you're not any better off.

tangled in naivety                       

playing at maturity,

and reveling in mutual dotage

all whilst wishing 

to be held in the arms of our mothers.

what do we do

when our callow hearts

feel the weight of

the world?

we clutch each other

thankful to not have to endure

the consequences that come

with being 'grown'

in solace,

so when my feet

feel groundless

and 

my care flimsy,

my faith in your embrace

keeps me alive;

and when you hold me

and hide me

in the shelter of your skin

i know it's worth 

to ride out existing.