last year
was simultaneously
the best and the worst
year of my life.

I'm only seventeen -
unneccessarily dramatic statements
fit the profile but
understand this:

last year
I met you.
last year
for a while
I was happier than I thought
I was capable of being
last year I discovered
the magic of poetry
and how it is able
to capture such
limitless bliss.

but

last year
you broke me in two
and I had more sadness in me
than the human heart should be able to stand
and
last year
I scrawled poetry
in the margins of my textbooks
because
I couldn't describe what agony I was enduring
but I had to try
over and over
and over again.

last year
I felt stupid
for being so in love with you.

This year
I can't seem to be able to teach myself
how to stop being in love with you.

But I'm going to try.