when we were younger

we tossed water balloons

around

on the hot pavement

we weren’t afraid of

popping

their fragile shells

the noise didn’t make us jump

not very much

not the way we do now

when we were younger

we yelled our hopes at the top of our lungs

up high

we weren’t afraid of

having

our hearts broken

the fear didn’t consume us

not very much

the fact that someone might hear us

didn’t bother us (much at all)

when we were younger

we jumped in the pool

into the deep end

we weren’t afraid of

drowning

in the water

the air escaping our lungs didn’t slow

our breath

not very much

when we were younger

________________________________

#poetry #freeverse #youth #growingup

"Just wait!"

My fingers linger on the door as I wait for a continuation of the exclaim, without making eye contact.

"Does this mean it's over?" I hear quietly and I immediately turn around to see her crying while slowly settling onto her knees. I rush over despite my head protesting but once again my heart wins as I immediately comfort her.

"What? Baby no, we had a fight. A fight is not a breakup." I say softly.

"Im sorry.." I sigh hearing her say that and pick her up gently to settle her on the couch. I wipe a few tears from her face.

"Its okay, okay? It's all right. It was just a stupid silly fight, we were just frustrated. Now, I love you and I am not leaving anytime soon, okay?" I said. Once I heard a small 'okay' I sat down next to her and let her lean on me as I carded my hands through her hair.

Stupid silly fight.

“An unsolved mystery is a thorn in the heart.” 

The pretentious dejectedness in his voice sets me off. I want to hit him, shove him out of my life, out a window even. I bite my tongue though, I know the signs, know the state he’s in right now. I’ve weathered such storms before, I know it’ll pass. 

He’s looking at me expecting a response, he’s learned by now that I try to be nicer when he’s like this, pretend that I have answers that’ll draw him back. I can’t leave him waiting. 

“What mystery? I think I’ve been perfectly forthcoming.” 

“It’s all a mystery to me,” he says with a shrug. 

I keep my first angry retort in, shove it down with a gulp. A second one slides out, nicer and more distant. “Can you stop pretending you’re being insightful just because you’re miserable.” 

He wasn’t expecting that, I went off script, let myself out. He shrugs and watches his feet. 

I watch them too. They’re the same pair I always see him in, worn down and plain. He doesn’t do change well when he is like this, he is spiraling, thinking it’s over. I wonder if he’s right. 

I try to find something to say, but my voice is empty. 

He looks at me. I sense the same hurt in his eyes that’s always there and a desperation that I just added. I don’t meet his eyes. 

“If I said I was sorry for always being underwater would you stay?” 

I chuckle, I can’t help it. The quoted lyric is just so him. Him who I heard sing along to it on the way to the beach once. Him who I want to be here, who I dance with, circling around until we get to these moments again. I don’t dread them I realize, I’m not blissful until we hit them, they’re how I keep time with him, swirling about as we do, separated by our motions. These are the moments when he’s willing to be close to me, and the rest is when we can talk to each other. 

I’ve been quiet too long. He’s already desperate, drowning in the silence, knowing what it means. 

“It’s not a mystery,” I say. “I just don’t have what I need here.” 

You're moving on,

letting go.

We hid our feelings,

and now we know -

we don't work well

we aren't meant to be

we spoke too many lies

to ever be free.

So now you're leaving,

it's for the best.

I wasn't worth it;

you weren't impressed.

You say that I

should move on too,

but how can I

ever get over you?

when your paragraphs turn into a sentence,

the once loud space now left with deafening silence,

does this mean it’s over?

when i struggle to look interesting,

and i find you slowly retreating,

i guess it is over.

but i still write you a letter,

and keep checking for answers,

i kind of wish it wasn’t.

are we really over,

you ask with teary eyes,

i can't live without you,

please, i didn't mean to

but my hand is already at the door,

shaking with fury as

i cast my gaze upon your pitiful features

you didn't mean to,

i snap,

wheeling around,

just like you didn't mean to fall in love with me,

just like you didn't mean to ignore me on dates,

or not have time for someone as useless as me,

or not give a damn when you missed the most important night of my life

sure,

you didn't mean to

fat tears cascade down the sides of your face

streaking your rosy cheeks

with the remnants of your guilt

that is,

if you felt any

you trembled and you screamed,

begging like some lonesome dog for me

to not leave

to not go

to stay with you

in your stupid studio apartment

but i couldn't hear it

i couldn't hear it

through the memories

of crying my heart out every night

of wondering why you smelled like perfume every other day

through the memories of

cheap dollar store chocolate boxes

you bought me when i was upset with you,

with your childish mindset

thinking that it was the solution to mend together

the cracks in our relationship

through the tidal wave of emotions

when i finally found your phone,

the wave that broke all my hope

of you ever loving me back

then through the memories

of missing you

of missing us

we need a break,

i say,

trying to bite back a sob,

this isn't good

for either one of us

no,

you yell,

we can make it work

i'll make you happy

i give a small chuckle

at the silly response

we're over