What do young people know? Nothing much, in our naïveté. The world is small
As the pearl perched on your Cupid’s bow and that is why we are generous and,
Worst of all, sincere, when we say “you are my world” and offer up the meagre
Possessions of a student’s budget with the striped lining of empty pockets.
What do I know about comparing my small trembling happiness to the
Painted waters of auroras and the wide stripe of universe that awes us and
Devastates us? At this age everything feels permanent without the practice of
Letting go, and promises mean everything because we don’t have much.
Humans change like seasons and what do I know about pleading
Exception to the rule, that the tightness in my chest is for the one and only
Time I can pass someone my heart in it’s unbroken entirety and watch it
Quiver like the quick breathing of small animals in cupped hands.
It is my first time seeing it in this light, fitted in your palms. In my
Snow globe universe, a single person enters and stoops for the
Low ceilings, and sits toe-to-toe, knees-to-knees before me and I know
Enough that they are here to stay. We will watch everything growing up
Has to offer from this side of the glass, like on a rotating teacup
In the amusement park, others revolving around us or us being twirled
To the fancies of the spinning universe. The details don’t matter
— We are happy and moving in unison. For this moment,
I will offer everything on me: empty pockets, the pearl on the Cupid’s bow
The size of my stupid naive heart, and then some. As I grow and collect
The trinkets of time and places and beautiful spaces, I will offer them too,
Because even in my ignorance I know enough that it will always be you.
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