How To Survive Young Love
You can spend your whole life desperately grasping for purpose
Waiting for the stars to fall to you,
Praying for them to powder your cheeks and spill out from your palms in their abundance
Until finally, that boy that sculpted you into a mystery takes your hand, shakes at the padlocks to your soul,
And you will feel whole.
But one night, you will be walking home after climbing from his window
Treading in fluorescent street lights, drowning in the atmosphere of his cologne
And you will hate that it smells like you now.
You will shatter your perfume and lather it onto your shaven arms, let it burn away your skin, and watch it boil.
Try to allow your former self to swallow you whole, because look how easy he made it look.
Too often too late, you will realize that love is not him, but the walks he took you on.
You will reach for the planets and stars, the forgotten dreams again,
But you will know that not everything has to be a metaphor.
Purpose resides in you.
Take the scenic route,
Sit in the dirt, and dance alongside the tall grasses in the wind.
Take a hand beside you, but only if you want to,
And never when you need it.
