23rd
and if you turned around to see me and i was gone, you should have looked outside your window ‘cause the sun was coming up.
my life these days is like a donnas’ song but i probably shouldn’t say which. like most things i probably shouldn’t do though, i never really take the threat seriously and will say here and now on this saturday afternoon that the afore mentioned refers to forty boys in forty nights. though i’ll be honest, it’s more like sixty boys in forty nights.
and youre gone, that’s cool, but today feels like those few weeks where i was yours and you were mine, just for a little bit. remember the hoodie and the hat, the hickeys and the sneaking in and out of each other’s houses? remember the inappropriate and inappropriately sweet messages? the time we drove three hours just to drive three hours with each other, the windows down and the music so loud that all we could hear was pounding tom toms and the sound of my laughter? your hand in mine and my heart, my whole life, in yours? remember.
remember when you said i was your every reason. remember the night at the pier, we laid by the water on that cold, hard floor. we watched the stars as they watched us become fools, for each other. i didn’t care though; outside of you, nothing mattered. fools like me, how we love blindly.
it’s not the same anymore. you snuck out of my life the way i used to sneak out of your front door at six on a saturday morning just after the sun had risen. i don’t know where that hoodie is anymore; i might have given it back to you, but i really think you took it back. if you didn’t catch that, it was a metaphor. canberra is foreign to me now, the pictures are barely memories. the girl who stares back at me is a stranger and the boy next to her, a figment of my over elaborate, attention starved imagination. that pier, they’re tearing it down. and those stars, they’ve faded. the sun came up.
i tell everyone i’m fine and i never think about you, but the truth is that you’re always on my mind.
