Peter Pan Syndrome

Im sitting criss cross applesauce on stained carpet waiting for the words to write themselves
because I'm not sure what I want to say
but I want to say something

High school.
was only 4 years of my 17 which means that
at 13 I was creasing the corners of books
and increasing the footnotes and even though i kept losing my page
i was near the beginning anyways

it wasn't until a boy, the first boy
read my footnotes and showed me his
that my heart helped me dance
because the choreography was our promises
they never made it to the stage
that was 14
flip the page

but it was nothing like 16
where the night never perished
and i didn't know any of the words
but i sang along anyways
flip the page

back to 15 because we skipped a section
where music was the kernals in the microwave
when my library card was my fake ID
and we were cemented to eachother
while exploring the mysteries of fitting in
and never forcing a laugh
flip the page
skip the next chapter

we're in college and we're lost
but we've found ourselves
and for once we feel small
but the bigger plans we made
are unfolding and we're content

Go back
back to this moment right now
i'm 17 years old and in 61 hours we'll be standing in a line waiting for our names to be called
BINGO
four rows four years completed
there will be tears and smiles and diplomas
and we'll be thinking about the future's fresh taste on our tongues
and the bitterness of rotten relationships will be replaced with sweet release
and we'll reflect on tetherball and four square and footie pajamas
along with field trips to bowling alleys and football games under the bleachers
and it will all be one extravagent moving picture
because the past will become a flipbook of memories we chose to remember
and it won't matter if you appeared in the yearbook 8 times
or ate in the cafeteria every day
it will only matter who you are in this very moment
and all I have left to say is godspeed