He knocked me down, dirt covering my palms, I smudged them across my face as my smile
became less than perfect and I thought to myself...
in a frustrated sigh that brings upon the demise of May...
that boys never grow up.
It was hard to be a woman underneath the element of laughter, and I found myself when we
reached the middle of us, I discovered I could be a little...
So he turned and twisted me, holding onto my strings, he unraveled me and tied me up, my
angry screams amused him and the skin on my arms tingled with jealousy as his fingers ran
down my thighs.
Breathing became fighting and I mixed words with survival, his eyes sparkled and I swore
he had caught the moon, I wondered if she had believed him, if she had laughed, if she had
I imagined she was pretty when she pouted.
He kissed me on the second syllable of his name and right before pleading, he held me as
the night spilled beside us and showed me the beauty in blue, he spoke me and quieted me
as I smiled...
and he told me it was perfect as I became his, as I became childish and promised fairy
tales when I spoke of the days we would fly.
I believed the stars to be magical when I gazed at the moon and discovered the secrets in
laughter when he swallowed my kiss...
And that night, as my arms shed their jealousy and wrapped themselves around him,
I discovered how to
as we refused to grow up.