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Seventeen



these days, i feel like i’m drowning

like my life is running from me,

only to leave me to the shadows.

i want to be 17, like the movies:

i want to be kissed in the rain 17,

walking on train tracks 17,

i want to be messy, angsty, beautiful 17,

not ghostly, exhausted, numb 17.

i want to feel the butterflies of lust,

feel the pain of a shattered heart—

something.

i need to feel something,

for i’m not sure how much longer

i can hold on.

but for now, my words are my oxygen

and we all know

that there’s an end to every chapter,

a closing of the pages,

for i,

and we,

are finite.


 

Editor(s): Cathay L., Joyce P. Photo Credits: Unsplash


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