sharing with the boy
i would not say that i am an open book.
in fact, most days, i am not only closed, but i am bound by a lock with the key thrown away and buried 60 feet under on a deserted island.
but when i’m with you, you could ask me anything and i would find you an answer without hesitation.
because i know that whatever i say must have a response, and to hear you speak again is all i can hope for.
to hear your voice that echoes confidence and your laugh that rejoices with no uncertainty.
to see your eyes crinkle at the edges where my mind becomes stuck and your mouth forms a smile that makes the angels stop to rejoice.
to feel your body so close to mine, when friends are packed in the seats of our church and we are almost one.
to exist around you is not the same as living with you.
now i wake up with your name on my tongue and go to sleep with your words on my mind.
god bless the boy that found my voice and set it free, for he has emancipated a new person, one who wishes to be by his side forever.
and while she knows that this is impossible, let this be her first summer love, one that is bittersweet and in which she learns to love herself;
so that when she says goodbye to the boy, when she’s still sad, she’s knows that she can count on herself to pick her up, dust off her shoulders and say
“go share with someone once again.”