I am not the girl your mother warned you about.
I will take you to bookstores and playgrounds
and make fun of the way you blow bubbles into the air
during picnics on the grass
overlooking the blinding blue of the lake.
I will stay up late baking cookies and think ice cream
is the most perfect thing to eat for dinner
and I’ll insist you never grow out of your sweet tooth.
I will bring you to movies and throw popcorn in your hair
ignoring the people behind us telling us
to please be quiet and watch the movie
while being jealous of the way our laughter
sounds better than the movies ever did.
I will make you stay up late
and ask you how you think the universe works
while insisting that the lights strung up above my bed
is the night sky and that clump over there?
That is the milky way.
I will kiss you in my most favorite spots
and sing you my most favorite songs
so much you can’t help but think of my voice
singing it into your ear.
I will love you for as long as possible
or as long as you’ll let me.
I will not kiss your best friend
and I will cry at the thought of letting you go.
But you will fuck up.
And you will let me go.
I will be the thought in the back of your mind
when you can’t sleep late at night
and you will think of me at the alter
and when you’re arguing with her.
You will wonder if the lights above my bed
still remind me of the stars in the night sky
and if my lips still taste like the ice cream I had for dinner.
You will let me go.
And I will not look back.
— I will hold your hand and dare you to run across busy streets with me reminding you why you loved being young and utterly reckless. -gaa