Be young, be dope, be proud. Like an American.
We wanted to star-gaze,
So we lay on the grassy hill,
City lights in the distance,
Hues of bright orange emanating and coloring the waters and skies,
We played hide-and-seek with the stars,
And managed to find them, shyly hiding away, enveloped in the darkness of the sky overhead,
“It’s the Little Dipper,” you told me,
But they were moving ever so slowly,
Satellites, but we pretended,
What those satellites may have seen though,
Were you and I,
Laying on that grassy hill,
Me, lowering my arm at the same glacial rate those satellites seemed to be moving at,
And you, finally grabbing my hand, finally…
A surge of ecstasy ensued as I felt your fingers intertwining with mine,
“They built a statue of us…”
Don’t text me. Find me in person and ask me.
Why are you so keen to jump to conclusions. Ask me out to coffee and we’ll go out and talk and if I like you romantically, then everything’s great, and if I don’t, we can continue being friends.
I think some of the best romances are the unfulfilled ones, but that’s neither here nor there.