Reflections

When I was fourteen, I fell in love with a musician who made masterpieces overnight. But this wasn't love, just a school girl crush filled with disappointment. Fourteen was a year of understanding the world and growing up.

When I was fifteen, I fell in love with a poet who wove words into paintings. It was a one-sided kind of infatuation, so there is no real memory remaining.

When I was sixteen, I fell in love with my first love. I'd waited for him all my years. I waited another year and a half, but I lost my patience and collapsed by fear of the future. At seventeen, I'd lost my stability in him and lost a best friend and love.

When I was eighteen, I lost all control. My heart had holes, black holes taking in lives of boys who thought they had a chance to survive my harshness. Eighteen was a rotten year of regret and whirlpools of loss, sadness, and confusion. I was forced to understand the world all over again and grow up even more.

And now, at nineteen, I'm reflecting back and trying to figure out the idea of love all over again.

Author's Note

Just a simple reflection poem, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head.