And Like a Summer Nearly Over
A Moment in the Park
I made a mistake.
I should’ve known that this was coming, and then maybe I would’ve been less hurt by the realization that I am the summer. I am the sun on our long walks and I am the breeze that ran through our fingers when you kissed me goodnight. I am slipping fast and soon the autumn will come, and we will be no more.
New York is such a long ways away. I looked it up on a map, and with my fingers, counted the steps. If only New York was really a hand span away, then maybe summer would never have to end. Maybe it could go on forever, even when the snow was falling or the flowers blooming. Maybe summer could’ve gone on forever, and then I would be happy.
But suddenly, it is not me that I am worried about. It is not my happiness that I strive for, and it is no longer my own smile that can solve my problems. Suddenly, the idea of losing you to a faceless girl, one that could never be the summer, is terrifying. Suddenly, you are not a simple romance, suddenly, you are mine.
I am sorry.
I never should’ve kissed you. Do you remember that day? We went to the park, but the gates were closed, and you kissed me. I remember opening my eyes so that I could watch you, and I remember feeling your hand around my waist.
Just the memory makes me smile, even as I feel the tears start to boil over. I told myself that I would not get attached that night. I told myself that you and me, well, we were just going to be something to look fondly back on. I told myself that when you left, it wouldn’t ache. I told myself all this and I wonder if you had to tell yourself all that too.
My phone is not doing it’s job. It is not ringing with an invitation and it not humming with a message. It is silent, almost as silent as the air that is pressing down on my chest. It is mocking me and all the rules I gave myself. If you did tell yourself all of this, then you obviously are not one to argue with rules. You don’t seem to care anymore.
College is so close.
College is the falling leaves and the laughing teenagers that run by me, sprinting for the bus. It is the time when you will leave me, and when I see you next, I have no doubt, it will be with a beautiful girl on your arm.
I believed you when you told me I was pretty.
Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I just need to wake up and realize, not everything can be believed.
I should’ve known that this was coming, and then maybe I would’ve been less hurt by the realization that I am the summer. I am the sun on our long walks and I am the breeze that ran through our fingers when you kissed me goodnight. I am slipping fast and soon the autumn will come, and we will be no more.
New York is such a long ways away. I looked it up on a map, and with my fingers, counted the steps. If only New York was really a hand span away, then maybe summer would never have to end. Maybe it could go on forever, even when the snow was falling or the flowers blooming. Maybe summer could’ve gone on forever, and then I would be happy.
But suddenly, it is not me that I am worried about. It is not my happiness that I strive for, and it is no longer my own smile that can solve my problems. Suddenly, the idea of losing you to a faceless girl, one that could never be the summer, is terrifying. Suddenly, you are not a simple romance, suddenly, you are mine.
I am sorry.
I never should’ve kissed you. Do you remember that day? We went to the park, but the gates were closed, and you kissed me. I remember opening my eyes so that I could watch you, and I remember feeling your hand around my waist.
Just the memory makes me smile, even as I feel the tears start to boil over. I told myself that I would not get attached that night. I told myself that you and me, well, we were just going to be something to look fondly back on. I told myself that when you left, it wouldn’t ache. I told myself all this and I wonder if you had to tell yourself all that too.
My phone is not doing it’s job. It is not ringing with an invitation and it not humming with a message. It is silent, almost as silent as the air that is pressing down on my chest. It is mocking me and all the rules I gave myself. If you did tell yourself all of this, then you obviously are not one to argue with rules. You don’t seem to care anymore.
College is so close.
College is the falling leaves and the laughing teenagers that run by me, sprinting for the bus. It is the time when you will leave me, and when I see you next, I have no doubt, it will be with a beautiful girl on your arm.
I believed you when you told me I was pretty.
Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I just need to wake up and realize, not everything can be believed.