I am not the portrait
of a love struck thirteen year old
that I painted myself out to be.
last night, I fell asleep hoping that
if there ever comes a day that
you touch my back for a second time,
I will act completely normal.
I will not blush and smile like an idiot
or dance around my bedroom
to lame pop music that I know
you wouldn’t approve of.
they always said that I was mature for
my age. but now? I’m not so sure.