Flushed skin,

the soft graze of your hands on my waist,

our bodies wrapped around one another swaying to Sinatra.

My future love how I long for you.

Come whisk me away my darling;

to a tiny hole-in-the-wall, new york apartment,

peeling paint and lumpy couches.

A sagging bed where we lay at dawn and tell each other corny jokes—

a place to grow old together

But my love I am too young for this.

My world is reading articles and revising essays,

our bed has been swapped for wooden desks—

our couch for aluminum chairs.

The light buzzing of our heater is drowned out by the dulcet tones of a teacher.

Steadfast endearment is now first loves and first times,

too often followed by the sharp pang of heartbreak.

I turned my eyes to the future too soon and my time at hand flew away.

No coming of age for me, 

I have already given my youth away.

To test scores and college walls,

internships and college credit classes.

Fate give me it back you cruel thief;

it wasn’t yours to take.

I was too young,

too innocent;

your oblivious prey.

So there will be no celebration for me,

I’m already fading away,

into bills and taxes.

Working 9-5,

what a way to make a living.

Am I living?

It doesn’t feel that way.