I'm riding in the backseat of the car,
drawing on the window,
dressed in winters best.
I just want to lay in bed,
hear your thick southern accent,
and fold into you over and over.

But I'm taking you for granted,
I was wild, I didn't know what I had then.
That love is something i'll never have again,
or at least, I haven't found it yet.
I live for the day that you'll wake up,
and come back,
but you never do.

I've filled up enough journals about you,
to write a blog of all the days,
all the weeks, all the months,
and all the years I spent without you.
But this isn't the notebook,
you may be noah, and I might be allie,
but you're never coming back.

There won't be a day that you'll see my face in the paper,
and come running back to see what it is you've been missing,
we won't reflect, and build new memories,
you've already established yourself one hell of a life i'm sure,
and i'm still wild, ending up as the one thing you wished I'd never be.
Truthfully, I think you'd love me now.
If you ever woke up, and came back,
but you never do, and never will.

So this is a memoir written to the girl at sixteen,
who under-appreciates your conversation and guidance,
I'd tell her be sweet, be loving, be kind.
You never know what the future might hold,
cherish what you have, because one day, it will be gone.

But it's time to grow up,
that sweetheart of a boy is long gone,
and it's time for his book to come to a close.
You can't keep hoping and wishing one day he'll come looking,
wondering what you're doing, where you ended up, or if you're alive at all.

You can't keep hoping he'll reach out,
and come back as a white knight,
to whisk you away to that wonderland in your mind.
Because he won't.
So do what you can now,
love yourself, find happiness for yourself,
and close the book.

To the girl I was at sixteen,
you're a fool,
but I know you won't listen,
you never do.

To the girl who had her head in the clouds,
and never thought to see what was in front of you,
it's okay, because one day you'll stop,
you'll realize you made horrible mistakes.
One day, you'll wake up,
and he'll leave you for someone else,
and he'll be happy.
Oh, I'm sure he'll be happy.
Because she probably would never treat him,
quite like you do.

So close your eyes,
you'll wake up tomorrow in time for school,
and just do me a favor,
and cherish those years while you can,
because twenty-three won't bring much promise,
I know this much better than you.

To the girl I was at sixteen,
one day you'll forgive yourself for all of the mistakes you'll make,
and you'll be beautiful, have your own house, your own car,
you'll be an artist, a writer, and everyone you know and hold dear,
oh, they're going to love you.

The arguments with your grandmother,
they're never going to get easier,
so listen to the boy with ocean eyes,
and just say yes ma'am, and let her walk away.

One day, you're going to be beautiful,
and nothing anyone says will matter.
You'll start to have it all figured out,
and when depression takes hold,
just say no, not like this, not now.
Close your eyes.
Don't give up so soon,
because one day you'll be loved,
I know this better than you.

Close the book,
Set it down,
what's meant to be will be,
we don't know what the future holds,
but don't worry, don't cry,
because life goes on.