17
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You have truly broken the mold
You made him more precious than gold
He was given a special task you see
He was given the job of raising me
He is unique in his own way
twenty sixteen and moved out at seventeen
seventeen and get my own rent paid
seventeen and grew my eyebrows out and slayed
seventeen and moved to another state
seventeen and two jobs, full plate
Dear 17,
be gentle with me
actually, scratch that
bring on all the craziness and intensity
i'm ready to spend nights curled up on the floor crying
kicking and screaming at the notion that life isn't fair
Years are measured;
Not by the days,
but by the time that takes up the days.
Time is measured;
Not by a clock,
I wanna live young and wild.
I wanna go on road trips in the middle of the night.
Go to nowhere
and make love under the stars in the back of my lovers pickup truck.
I wanna be crazy and dance the night away
Today I turned 17. I don’t feel 17.
I don’t feel any different than I did yesterday.
We live 364 days of the year being the same age, when in reality you aren’t.
I’m 17 years old and tomorrow I will be 17 years old
The essence of my being is slipping from my skin
It’s vanishing into the cold refuge of darkness
my tongue is etched with the teeth that hold it still
what a poisonous addiction, your beauty envelops me
Oh the irony,
To be in such disparity,
And yet so merry and gay,
Is this right is this O.K.?
Do you think he was the same way?
Witty Whitman and his writing foreplay?
