He was youth-
Undeniably naive in the way he looked at me,
Like I could build skyscrapers with trailer park hands.
His smile was sweet,
Like frosted cupcakes and sugary lips that only spoke sticky words.

He was youth-
In the way he laughed, tossing his head back with ignorant bliss.
In his eyes that lit up with the sight of stars,
And him imagining me as one of those beautiful, perfect stars.
Ignorant in the way he loved so carelessly and so freely.

He was the youthful gust of air that blew straight into me.
So childlike in the way he told me sweet nothings like they were law,
And I was a citizen inside of his arms.
He was the youth I needed at a time when I was too old to fight it.
The youthful facade that only lasted while feeling it.