16


last summer you said i would make it to 16.
i didn’t believe you.
you said
“promise me”
and i couldn’t, no, not until
grey turned into gold
and it’s been grey for a while, i said
but then i saw your reflection
and believed that was my gold
so i promised.
16.
and even after i saw through your gold
and even after i let go of my best friend
and even after i saw
tasted
felt
grey
i kept my promise
but you were smart.
you never promised you wouldn’t leave.
march 11, 2020.
i made it.
i win.
16.

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