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It starts with a little dizzy  And ends with a little sicky  It crawls through your skin  While your eyes are wide shut   
And  You cant see it -as it crawls under your fingernails-  You cant taste it -as it slides down your throat-  You cant hear it -as it chuckles into your ear-  You cant feel it -as it caresses your face-  You cant smell it -as it rots everything you know away-  You cant know it -as it takes you away-  But  It sees you -when you're sitting there-  It tastes you -when you unknowingly kiss it-  It hears you -when you whisper to your friends-  It
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I don't think we should mock what it was like to love at fifteen. I think that if we could all love in that way (perpetually and honestly and with so much passion that we could feel ourselves ready to burst with it) then this place would be so much happier. We'd be more fulfilled and so sure, so positive- this is the one. This is the one to complete me. And we wouldn't worry about details or the future or heartbreaks to come: just the time that is now. A time that is perpetually Summer and brimming with nostalgia. Loving at fifteen is loving young and loving "forever", and it's something I regret we grow out of.
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Daily Deviations
I touched your skin today;  a narcissistic red,  a secret to success  that your blush gave away                           Your glossy smile bounced around me;  an intolerable grace,  an exhalation possessed  by your nagging perfection--   
I wish I could be a balloon.

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