Sixteen year hopes.

There I stood,
A year later,
In a different place than I was then entirely,
(Not that you stuck around to watch that.),
But everything is the same.

I stood crying in the kitchen to my mother,
Over words that did not mean a thing,
In that stupid shirt
(I bet you don’t even remember the color.)
From that stupid night
When you told me I was beautiful
(And other things I swore I’d never tell.).

Her arms held me up because
I was just too weak to stand,
My legs too small to carry the weight of my chest.
Crying over lost love
(Because, yes, I damn well loved you),
It might as well have been February 25th
(Not that you would remember what that date was).

“You forget,” they say. “You lose track of the dates,”
(14th, 23rd, 18th)
“You lose track of the days,”
(386)
“You forget it all because it feels so different.”
Everything is the same.