What a runner,
all the life in his eyes everyday,
Not one could keep up,
could catch up,
bolts of lightning would challenge you and lose.
His face would sparkle with amusement.
It still does.
Will that go away with age?
It has with so many others,
but no, not you sweet boy,
Little boy,
stay little

You'd go to their parties in your best clothes,
you'd tell them secrets to better portray how you wanted
to be consumed; how you wanted to be seen in
the right light of entwined, callous mouths.

Though years passed and the canteen hall
smelled of stale jokes and worn-out references
your group stuck together by a conformed
sense of security and a scared mixture of secrets.

The bell rung hollow one last time as your
group disbanded into grey, lifeless figures.
The adults around you knew them as temporary
indulgences. You called them something warmer.

i do not know if this
scares you

but someday,
i will no longer
drown your memory
by writing ****** poems
at 1:13 am

and you won't exist to me

Everyone wants to be a little more odd,
put your soul to the moon and treat it like God,
Well I never had young love,
but old love is enough for me,

I'm too scared of too many thing,
Especially when it come to singing in front of you,
And there's also lots of places I still want to go,
It’s always been my dream to be able to roam,
but don't fret my lovely,
cause someday I’ll make a new discovery

My sister,
You are a hero of youth,
of girls,
you are awful sometimes,
but I never blame you for it,
I have seen you from your young age,
how beautiful you are becoming,
and how good you are at avoiding your problems,
I can see them always hovering at your head,
and you use your stethoscope eyes to see past them,
what a talent few posses,
but don't be afraid to talk to them,
to look them in the eyes and tell them
I am more than what you tried to make me,
Don't allow them to haunt you,
don't let them use you for their wicked ways,
your light is too bright to allow that,
you think you are no good sometimes,
that you aren't good,
but everybody can be good,
even people who have been in pain for a long time,
use that pain as motivation,
it is special,
it makes you have a connection with things and people,
I don't have that ability,
and I can't imagine how hard the sacrifice would be,
you are more than just a twerp,
you are a sister and a friend,
and when you laugh,
and you say we are not friends,
I know you feel the same

I miss them,
I miss them in all sorts of ways,
we would argue,
laugh at the argument,
I could have been kinder,
Now,
now it's almost as if they died,
as if I never knew them,
Now we call,
we call to hear that echoey tune,
the hum and life we lived with once,
where everyday we were mad but happy,
we hated each other,
but we didn't need love from anywhere else,
and that hum stays with us when the phone goes out,
it sinks in deep to our soul and sleeps,
and we sleep,
knowing that we have been robbed,
robbed of 18 years or more,
robbed of something so many take for granted,
and so many others have been robbed as well,
we did not get our 18,
but instead 4, 5, 7, 10, 13,15,
and what a beautifully horrid 15 years it was for me,
still I miss them,
God I miss them

It frustrates me and fascinates me that we'll never know for sure, that despite the best efforts of historians and scientists and poets, there are some things we'll just never know.
What the first song sounded like.
How it felt to see the first photograph.
who kissed the first kiss, and if it was any good. -Isacc Marion