My youth with you.

Maybe this is the beginning of my youth, you know?

Maybe I haven’t lived at all during my teenage. Maybe this is what living is and I have missing out on all that, my whole girlhood.

I spent all this time listening to Cigarettes After Sex at 2.am when I was 17 missing someone I never met. 3 years later you’re laying here, wrapping your arms around me in your blue shirt, telling me stories about your stoning time in high school and I feel whole.

Have I not lived my youth to the fullest?

There is it, the halo that shimmers the glow I once loved. This time you can be the cat. I’ll stroke your Apollo golden hair as you meow. Those foreign breaths I never could have imagined to breathe in. I’ve always loved your nose, though you said how much you don’t like it when you kiss me. Maybe your broad shoulders and that rare smile are what I have always been looking for but

Never found.

I love how the back of your hair felt like duckling’s feather as you said. You’re not perfect, I know. But you made my youth whole.

I was looking for someone with the same taste of music as I do. I thought that’s how perfection should be. It’s 2.am on a Wednesday morning and I realized perfection is you lit up a part of me which I suppose to cherish. I forgot how fucking good Porter Robinson was until you came along.

And I forgot how much I love random kisses. I forgot a part of my youth is still dying for that high intensity, that nostalgic realm.

We are both loners at heart. We were once unloved and insecure of our teenage that I never know how on earth did I find you. There was so much hatred built up in us towards the world, the people around us and how the veil in front of people’s eyes make them blind.

But together, we transcend that and turn it into love. How magical is that?

How much would I take in? Until I overdose on that love?

How am I ever get any younger to feel what I’m feeling right now?

How long will my youth be?

 

 

 

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