i miss youth. my eyes my hair my hands my body is youthful, but i miss youth. i miss stumbling and fumbling with words and shoelaces and falling down the stairs of loneliness.
i miss the taste of poor choices and impulsive actions that don't lead to repercussion because, hey, she is youth.
i miss the air and mist of innocence and entitlement i miss wanting and wishing to be older because i would be cooler and wiser and not me anymore am i me anymore?
i have no want for cooler and wiser and not me anymore i wish
i could find myself between
the pages of that immaterial
goosebumps novel thinking about it gives me goosebumps
thinking about you gives me
sweat and goosebumps
just a mess of sweat and goosebumps
with age comes freedom with freedom comes aberration and rebellion with aberration and rebellion comes restriction and i-don't-trust-you and with i-don't-trust-you comes a bad taste called nostalgia and want
i want to go back but i wouldn't change a thing
i wouldn't swap him out for a better boy i wouldn't swap her out for a better friend i wouldn't change me because i am me and i am a soul of youth and authority cannot stop that.
