Love Like an Adult
Hannah. Age 16. Brampton, Ontario
                      I wish I was eight years old again,

back to simpler times;

to the days before I was an upperclassmen.

When my only concerns were colouring inside the lines.

A time when my eyes only shed tears when I tumbled off my first two wheeler bike.

Back to the good old days when I used to fall in love at first sight;

when I used to believe no two people were alike.

But one can only dream to re-live life.

Now I am sixteen with no certainty of my future.

I am still the owner of an old coffee-stained dress;

I donít remember how I got it stained, everything was all one big blur.

Oh well, it didn't matter because I had no one to impress.

I now own an aching heart thatís solidifying into a ball and chain;

do you agree that when you grow up love becomes absurd?

Do I really have to explain?

Itís because people never bothered.

Adults no longer pick up their words;

they leave them embedded in my heart.

Itís as if happy endings only happen if you live life backwards.

After sixteen years of curiosity Iíve learned how to love like an adult,

you must kill the other in order to master the state of art.

What was earlier a specific drawing of a girl in a white wedding gown,

is now a water-coloured mess.
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