Sometimes, when I can't sleep at night, I lay on my back and think of when you slept beside me, your breath stirring the rapid heartbeat inside me. I remember those few golden summer days, flying by in a reckless haze of teenage joy and pheremones. Now I'm sleeping all alone, since I never worked up the courage to say what we both know; I thought it would happen on its own. Of course, I was wrong. And because it's been so long, I just sigh and turn back on my side, wishing that I could always live in that night. And as I slowly slip into sleep, I start to dream that you dreamt of me.
"Goodnight."
Now I've gone and done it, haven't I? Angsty teenage love, when will it end? ... When I'm not a teenager. Then it'll just be angsty love.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
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