The flamboyant eddy of the sky
vacuumed us into the dizziness of our youth:
Running through the cornfields,
laughing in the rain
and so naive, we spoke of the universe
as if it was far from us.
The pink and the purple,
the blush and the lavender,
bruises and scraped knees,
the flush of youth,
the embarrassment of our own ignorance.
I still think of who I was then
and who you were before
you learned who you were all along,
and I want to go back to the freedom,
the beauty of stretching ourselves out underneath the cotton candy clouds.
I want to know what is to be now?
Where do we go from here?
I am afraid,
that I will grow into a person I despise.
I was afraid
that I grew into a person that you despised.
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”