My youth is an apartment
I woke up in surrounded by ashtrays
and empty tequila bottles.
My youth is a Marlboro shared with a friend
behind a train station
so our parents don’t catch us.
My youth smells like clubs at midnight,
when I kissed a boy I just met
and told my friends about on Monday by the lockers.
My youth is bad decisions made despite fear,
it’s losing the last train home
to make out with a boy I thought I loved after a month.
My youth is sitting on a rooftop with friends,
Watching the stars,
talking about the dreams we will realize.
My youth is a story of love and friendship,
finding oneself and living off hope
before life came to knock the innocence out of us.
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2 thoughts on “Poem #311”
This poem really resonated with me. It captured an era perfectly, well done!
Oh to find that muse, our youth – lovely memories.