at fourteen she thought she knew what love was,
but I guess she thought she knew all kinds of things then.
she was one of those teenagers who didn't
hear when she was wrong, ever,
even when she knew it in the first place.

she would argue herself blue in the face
'til her mom's voice crackled
go to your room -

punishment for my loud mouth
and stubborn nature.

and at fifteen
that stubborn nature seemed to crumble
at the sound of his voice,
the soft scent of his skin -
because
she thought she knew what she was doing.
because she always thought she knew what she was doing,
reality was very much different from
the world she wove in her head,
but she still thought she knew what love was,
so she gave in.

at sixteen she looked back on some of those
choices she had made.
saw them in their most transparent form,
by the effects that they had on herself;
on how she saw herself.
learning things she should have
learned at 20, or 25 -
but (of course) she thought
she knew what she was doing.

she didn't.

i still don't know if that part matters though.

he's been gone a long time -
so many years to move on,
and i have more new memories
than old ones.

i dont miss him.
but i miss the version of me that he still remembers,
i miss the girl who thought she knew everything.
i miss her unwavering confidence in
choosing the wrong path for the umpteenth time,
and the strength and naivety she had
to get up and pick again
the next day.

because now
i've got no clue what love is,
and if i could just ask her,
maybe she could remind me.