Go back to the days 

when you lent me your pinky, 

and I promised you my heart.

Back to the days

where that small bond was worth something.

Now that we’ve grown, 

those things are hollow shells, memories 

of what they once were. 

Now the act means nothing,

as it mocks the days of our naivete.

But we can go back.

You and I.

To where we once were. 

To where we can be. 

Forward and back in time, 

our ignorance mirroring our innocence, 

and just as it began, so it will end. 

With a promise.