This was the summer I chose to be young.
I drank too much, made mistakes with a worthless guy.
Laughed, cried, partied, and pretended for two months of bliss
that I was young.
This was the summer I chose to lose love.
In losing love I allowed my feelings for an
insignificant suitor to numb my heart
blur my mind and confuse my head.
This was the summer I chose to grow up.
Acted like I was twenty-one. Confused.
In lust. Drunk. I lost myself yet again in a bottle of
vodka, in someone else’s arms, because having
something is better than having
This is the winter where I hope to grow into a
Whatever that means.
Be wiser, actually learn
from my mistakes, instead of repeating
them season after season.
This is the winter where I won’t lose myself. But,
can I lose myself in your arms?
Stumble up the stairs with you, hand in hand.
I just need to figure out who you are.
I don’t think you exist.
Winter is cold.
Winter is lonely.
Just like me.