wishful thinking [gracie abrams]

[09: DREAMS OF OUR FUTURE]

09: dreams of our future

HIGHSCHOOL.

CALIFORNIA, 2018

GRADUATION DAY

we spun around in my room, listening to whatever music us teenagers could perfectly spew out of our memorized hearts.

i remember your skinny jeans and the oversized shirt i let you wear.

as i laid giggling on my messy bed i watched you go crazy right before my eyes.

the sparkle, the glow, the energy - but we weren't kids high on nicotine, no.

we were kids high on love, and at such a young age - it was probably dangerous.

but being totally and utterly in love was worse than any drug.

because when our eyes connected, and the tissue from our lips got pulled apart from each others teeth - thats how i knew.

the late night talks and sneaking out around my block, pretending we were the funniest people on the planet.

trying to balance our beat up converse on wooden sidewalks just beside the road where no cars ran across, at what was way past midnight.

when seeing the stars glaring down at us from the pitch black sky was normal.

we played like children, and tripped over each others sentences.

yet when it mattered, we spoke words that acted as if we were beyond our years.

tousling each others hair just because we were 'curious teenage girls.'

we tried to block out the sounds of commitment and reassurance.

we knew and spoke of "us" in many different ways.

when we were alone, you would whisper my name from the tip of your lying tongue like i was your god. like "us" meant "amen."

yet when our eyes of blue and brown met in the suns hours, you would coldly state my name like a hollow, cracked vase. like "us" meant "nothing."