And I reread your poem,
The one about me.
And Emma blew my mind
(Figuratively)
She said:
"It's the same emotion
Whether you're a teenager or an adult.
It just intensifies
But it's still love."

So I wrote it down
So I wouldn't forget.

And I was high
And feeling low.
And I thought I was making sense.
She didnt have a journal
So I settled for a mini yellow legal pad.
And my thoughts were coming faster than I could write.
So I forgot.

I don't know which couch to make a bed.
I'm very prone to feeling sorry for myself.
Why is this happening to me!?
I think I'm just mad
My dad never taught me how to be brave.

I'm in my underwear.
I'm wearing your shirt
And my favorite sweater.
I'm comfy
Cozy
Cool.
I'm not used to the chill here.
Maybe I could bare the backwoods.
I thought I was over my fear of isolation
But I'm not.