To My 14 Year Old Self

You’re never going to hear from her again

No matter how many poems you write about her

Nights falling asleep thinking about how she feels curled up next to you

Tasting the honey of her lips, the wine of her laughter

She’s going to forget you when she forgets this place in leaving for the misery of Missouri

Learn to love this place instead

Memories of her will tangle themselves in the thorn bushes, trees, the sound of being alone by the forested waters

She won’t come running to you even if you’re the last breath of clean air

I’m sorry to break your heart baby

The curve of her smile is still etched under your skin

Don’t tear it out – that’ll hurt more than remembering

Every piece of simple beauty will remind you of her

The clouds in the sky, the whistle of wind in the trees

Let yourself remember her in her rawest moments, the way you loved her

Just because she didn’t love you back doesn’t mean you can’t let yourself love the memory of her

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2 thoughts on “To My 14 Year Old Self

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