I think of your new hands on my hips,
Only for a second only for a passing,
But when I try to mark and label the feeling flickered in that moment,
Experience veils my mind from the ability to distinguish my emotions.

I think of how a particular cologne no longer lingers,
Of how it no longer holds the poignancy of my young love,
Now I begin to distrust my ability to distinguish adolescent friendship from the once experienced love,
Experience lends me incapable of knowing my hearts intention by that flickering,
As I think of your new hands on my hips.