"I feel old", I said

"Time travel" they imposed

"How?", I exclaimed

"Fall in love", they replied

You
confused
my pencil tips,
they used to write poetry
Now, they doodle in lines in bewilderment
aimlessly drawing the words in sketches of an amateur love

It's not the time
it's the toll

I gave my
gut
a voice
it
gave me
cœur-
age

Maybe my heart
was born too small
for the love
it carries...

That's why it
shares it
just to
give itself
breathing
space

"I oddly miss you",
words
slipped off her
tongue
like a waterslide  


That's when the heart
goes
"*** did I just feel?"

They tell you, write it with emotion.
Write it like it’s a history you’ve seen -
Describe it in burning colors,
Making a tragedy of things unseen.

But then they criticize you, tell you
It’s too graphic - that there’s no way
That was your personal war.
They’d rather look away,
Than acknowledge that it was your everyday.