“Liked Your Post” Just Say You Want Me

"stress" by yoan capote - made of bronze and concrete

I don’t regret you. I regret the person I became trying to keep you.

— via knjfedog

─ Hisham Siddiqi

Grow up with me.

Let’s run in fields and fear the dark together.

Fall of swings, and burn special things,

and both play outside in bad weather.

Let’s eat badly.

Let’s watch adults drink wine and laugh at their idiocy.

Let’s sit in the back of the car,

making eye contact with strangers driving past,

making them uncomfortable.

Not caring.

Not swearing.

Don’t fuck.

Let’s both reclaim our superpowers;

the ones we all have and lose with our milk teeth.

The ability not to fear social awkwardness.

To panic when locked in the cellar;

still sure there’s something down there.

And while picking from pillows each feather,

let’s both stay away from the edge of the bed,

forcing us closer together.

Let’s sit in public, with ice cream all over both our faces;

sticking our tongues out at passers by.

Let’s cry.

Let’s swim.

Let’s everything.

Let’s not find it funny lest someone falls over.

Classical music is boring.

Poetry baffles us both;

there’s nothing that’s said is what’s meant.

Plays are long, tiresome, sullen, and filled;

with hours that could be spent rolling down hills,

and grazing our knees on cement.

Let’s hear stories and both lose our inocence.

Learn about parents and hforgiveness,

death and morality,

kindness and art,

thus losing both of our innocent hearts,

but at least we won’t do it apart.

Grow up with me.

— Keaton Henson

A coffee? One walk? Some music? Just the two of us?