I waited for An Epiphany until it got dark,
fixing my gaze on the back-lights of cars
blinking against the depressed black sky
I waited for you, you went and got high.

I met a boy once with eyes wilder than mine
who wrote poetry about me for quite some time,
after I broke his heart when we were fifteen,
from that summer, I was nobody’s prom queen.

I died a hundred deaths when I was sixteen, sweet
dancing with darkness out on the street.
I had pretty clothes so pretty I clothes I wore,
Hidden beneath were secrets, nightmares, flaws.

When I was seventeen I started to smoke,
scared of broken dreams and squandering hope.
My mother said I have an old soul,
underwater I feel ninety years old.

You tell me twice I feel everything too much,
Eighteen years-young, kiss to kiss, touch to touch.
I drove you out to the Peaks one night so you’d understand,
picked you up later, took hold of your hand.

Now nineteen and still half grown,
tiptoeing around myself when I’m alone.
Hold me close, follow me through my head,
to my dark thoughts, be golden thread.