Innocence

yeah.

you call me with stories of smeared lipstick and sweaty palms

movie theaters and his soft lips

i feign excitement for you

and try to listen while you ramble

but really, i am a thousand miles away

i am 10 again

the most innocent person in the room

listening to tales of boys and heartbreak from the "big kids"

i am young and clueless

and inferior to their experiences

i sit silently,

anticipating telling stories of my own, thinking

"i can't wait to grow up"

...but now i am a big kid.

so why do i still feel like i'm not?

why am i embarrassed when this topic comes up?

is it because i am ashamed?

is it because i have no stories of my own?

the answer is no:

it is because i fear i never will