growing pains

tear-stained wooden chair

calluses on your fingertips 

ran through my hair

saying it's okay, there's still another day

the wind is blowing your curls so perfectly

that i think i can finally understand what my mother meant

when i'm wrapped in your grey crewneck

silently hoping you think that i'm pretty in your belongings

spent the night locking fingers

letting the hours slip by

as our friends drift into sleep

while i'm mute as i'm celebrating what we have

and you have no idea how much it hurts

knowing that i'm hoping you'll be my first

yet it only lasts for a quarter hour

and the quiet of absence is all i have left of you now

18th sept ‘24