The past lives with the intention of grasping you from behind;
hoping you’d embrace it like there’s no better time than last time,
so never let it go;
stay with it for just a bit longer,
and remember it quite and slow of how things used to be,
but put no emphasis on the, ‘used,’ since it kills the significance just a bit,
like a warm cup of coffee you left out for just too long,
and all you’re left with is just a cold,
sweet feeling falling deep into the pit of your stomach
that grows like a crescendo.
It’s here to stay,
and the present is not as great as yesterday
and the future feels fearful of change,
so replay it like it’s the theme song to your life and let it be embedded into your mind.
But if anything, if anything...
The past reminds us that history, that life
is always subject to change.

Our hands act like Newton's Cradle;
bumping into each other like there's no before or no after;
just a constant force of just wanting to hold your hand
until I find the courage to let the friction just be,
and the heat just dissipates throughout our fingertips.
We let the tension of our feelings fall and the oscillation is no more.
It'll just be us; wrapping that constant energy within our fists;
preserving awkward unplanned first kisses.

Nervousness filled to the brim of my smile,
to my fingertips painting on the canvas of your cheek.
Just you and I, and streetlight spotlights
tracing our figures on a pitch navy night;
just waiting for the perfect moment to arrive.
And like devastating car wrecks;
it seems to come so slowly, yet so suddenly.
As the moments of uneasy tension begin to sandcastle its way to glory;
the waves begin to greet them in its wake.
And the kinetic energy of my lips greeting yours is lost
in the awkward, sweet silence that fills the street.
And the heat from the butterflies fluttering against the insides of our stomachs
allow us to exchange nervous laughs and mysterious smiles.
And we begin to taste the sweet, soft shock of each other’s lips.