too young for this love.
that’s what we are.
we never wanted to admit this.
but we did come this far.

our forever
ends in an hour;
but i’ll never be anything
but your old beloved flower.

i’ll wait for you,
oh, star-crossed lover.
though winter, autumn,
fall and summer.


when he was little
he dreamt of
saving the world,
but then he grew up
and problems unfurled.

“who knew that
growing up
could feel so absurd,”
said that curly haired boy,
the angels heard.

one faithful day,
while sitting down,
he saw a girl –
her eyes, disturbed.

“who is this girl?
an angel perhaps?”
her hair was curled,
her soul was cursed.

they talked and talked
for how long, you say?
an hour or two.
and more than that
in the coming days.

they talked about childhoods
and then their pasts.
“I’m way beyond saving
and that is that.”

a melancholy soul
is what this girl is about.
she was trouble
but she was also more than that.

he told her his dreams
of saving the world.
she said, “you couldn’t.
for the world is cruel
and that is that.”

“Guess I couldn’t,”
he said but
little did she know
that he made her his world
and saved her from the worst.