My Pen

I dreamt of it.

My sixteen year old self wondered what it 
Would feel like.

A pen and a paper in my hands were like
Love at first sight.
I neglected this love.
I put the pen down for almost a year for a 
girl that that had suddenly appeared. 

Lights, cameras action. Was I ready for 
love?

It came shooting at me like daggers on a 
dart board.

I wanted to run but for her I couldnt move.

I was stuck by her presence even though 
the idea of me and her seemed so taboo.

She spent me and I spent her. We had our 
own commerce made up of feelings.

We maxed each other out a couple of 
times. Our bank of love wrote some 
fraudulent checks that we couldnt cash.

I felt at this rate we wouldnt last.

I felt at this rate that I could actually be 
happy in a flash.

We have the photographs, the memories, 
the hashtags.

The reminders to everyone else that they 
couldnt touch what we had. 

We also had the scars which were 
depictions of our sometimes foolish 
decisions. 

We are not some bubble gum, puppy love, 
first time job type of love. 

We have mileage.  

And even though it hurts sometimes I 
would never get off this ride no matter 
how fast its driving.

She has her doubts that I love her. I have 
my doubts that she will stick around and 
love me.

Her being so much younger and me being 
much more experienced than she.

I think about it sometimes; if our love will 
last.

But she warms my soul when its feeling 
cold so none of the rest really matters.

I put the pen down for her.

I pick it up now because she has become 
my pen.

absenceabc

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