Saturday, 5 December 2009


in the end
maybe i just miss us.

all of us. the way things used to be.

simple times. finger-painted dreams.
crying over spilled milk and broken Barbie dolls.
model train sets. remote controlled cars.

the perimeters of our world cut from
paper-heart valentines and the pages of TeenBeat magazine.

maybe i don't like change very much
maybe i just don't like this change
maybe, in the end, i just want what i can't have:


to catch up
with all this growing up
all of us have had to do.

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