it feels terribly naive to promise forever
at the tender age of nineteen.
because forever means that you are not only my first
but will also be my last.
and i can't help but wonder about all of the lips untouched
and all of the hands that were never held.
forever is far too willing to overlook
all of the traumas that the universe could be planning.
arguments that haven't yet been unveiled,
the change of hearts that haven't yet been divided,
the wandering paths that haven't yet drifted.
because who knows what forever will hold?
who knows if we'll make it to forever?
who knows how long forever will last?
but i do know this:
i adore you.
and when you talk to me of
diamond rings and newborn cries and wrinkled skin,
i find myself hoping for forever with you.
YOU ARE READING
Small Talk
Poetry❝ we're just fumbling through the grey, trying to find a heart that's not walking away. ❞ [ a collection of drabbles, musings and poetry: sometimes i like to pretend that i can write poetry when there's things i want to get off my chest ]
