Children make my happy.
Honestly, I do no know how much of a sick thought this is,
But they make me remember times of so faraway.
And like a piano’s melody, it fades again.
I remember and I feel and the air that hit then hits
Me now once I remember that I was a virgin.
I was fresh, I was innocent.
Just today I saw a little boy holding a little
Girl’s hand to cross the street, as if she were his sister.
I waited before I drove into the street to watch him,
I wonder how many people I ever made remember.
We’ve always had a purpose here.
And he turned as if he knew and saw my tear role.
I live with no regrets, but my memories are so eerie that
I cannot help but remember.
A little girl sings from inside me every single time.
I touch the surface as if I’ve never touched
A surface before. I surface.
I do not feel like caring, I will figure something out.
I cannot care whether I make it into a “good” school or not
After “high school”, there is always Palomar and I
Cannot stay young.