I hope I remember when I'm sagging, decrepit, lamenting my youth,
How it felt to be 19,
and in love
The fire in my hair is sure to burn out with my senses and libido,
But I will preserve somewhere, my love of this boy/man/human/god/creature that has me typing at 3.26am,
and has painted my mind a moody violet watercolour - jealous and frightened.
Lonely in his silent absence.
Come back so I can love you more,
Still scared of heartbreak,
Not yet soiled by it.