I've thought a lot about it
enough time to pass
the melodramatic fits of passion
I house regularly in this skin of mine

That maybe the end of the world isn't at my door step
and that maybe I can live without your mahonany eyes, yet
I feel a yearnful pull to the softly spoken words
you renounce

Maybe it really wasn't meant to be
And I wasn't meant to be devinely yours
your one and only love for all of my life
I was only 14 when I loved you and
I coersed my own mind to belive that I would only have one love
like that in my life

This realization has felt like
Maybe I have grown
Maybe my girlish teenage mind has began to see reality
Like Messieurs les enfants
born yesterday but grown the next
overnight I lost the child version of myself
to the evermoving trail of time

or maybe I can just feel my prefrontal cortex developing