On the 7th of December, 2019, I wrote the following:
And there was someone that I liked, loved if you will. The first girl, though, we shared interests, laughed over characters from the shows that we knew, exchanged instagram usernames, followed each other's pinterests. We built with legos, houses that I am not ready to take apart yet, getting dusty under my bed, behind boxes, out of sight. However, then, they were colorful.
I often built with legos, still, at that time, she didn't, and our creations were so wildly different. I had made something steady, with walls that could not fall apart easily, and colors that matched. I had experience, not only with this, I was, I am, still, an old soul.
She, I don't know... did she have those famous bricks? She tried her best, we laughed, then, at what she had made. Unstable walls, clashing colors, she made something new, new, like herself. I know now, she is young, a young soul.
She never finished that house, made of lego, and I am not ready to take it apart yet.
We were close, during summer break we hung out so often, I lost count. She lived far away from our town, she still does, she needed to go by bus. I remember us, getting soaked by the bus station, waiting for it to arrive. I waited with her, so I could wave her goodbye, every time, and one more.
YOU ARE READING
Under the moonlight
PoetryPoems and thoughts. ...What else am I supposed to do? These are things I wrote down the way I think, with sweltering anger and invigorating joy, in tears and smiles. I dearly hope you will take these words as advice, to live by and never to forget. ...
