There was a time when you could make me fall right back to highschool.
The days of virginity and innocence.
Years between our encounters and you'd always be just beneath my breath.
So juvenile and oblivious to all the ways you'd disappoint.
So attached and forgiving.

I found myself at the end of your plank too many times.
Cannonball at my ankles.
Looking down your blade with the point in my neck.

I'll see you again soon...

I always used to feel.
But now I can't conjure the same devotion.
The image of you has finally muddied and spoiled.

I noticed this transition and felt the change somewhere along the way.
Affirmation that I don't need always live on that plank with my heels hanging off.