Young Love

The first time I really saw her for who she was, we were standing in a parking lot.
Her dark hair was flowing down her bare shoulders, her big brown eyes looking down at me.

I think at fourteen and sixteen, you don't really understand the energy that love brings.
Until it rushes into your chest and knocks you straight off of your feet.

The first time I knew I loved her we were sitting at a table in a quaint restaurant eating calamari.
I remember everything about that day.
From the sky,
to the batman hat on her head.
Suddenly her shoulders weren't the only things bare.

So you begin to fall for her. You fall for her soft hands and her tiny little button nose.
You fall for her deep voice and the way she laughs from her stomach, not her chest.
You even fall for her multicolored cat.

I think at fourteen and sixteen, you don't really think it will hurt as much as it does.
Until it overwhelms you and you become a shell of who you used to be.

So you stay in bed and your pillows begin to smell of dry tears.
You lie there for days on end wondering if she's doing the same.

I think at fourteen and sixteen you don't really think you'll ever get over her.
So you visit that same parking lot, this time with a cig in one hand,
and a beer in the other.

So you put your life at risk
and you live,
hoping that someday,
you'll find the love that you once had.