super-stardom
I think I like .boys. better
in pink dresses and heavy makeup
when you hold my hand.
and i can float away
yelling softly at the couch
for it to sit down
so that i can sit down
because i need to feel grounded.
but i don’t want to feel grounded.
I think that your hands are the softest hands
in the history of the world
and i could just hold them forever
and when you walk back to your house,
accented sweetly by the headlights of my car
i smile and say “god, she’s gorgeous.”
it’s like when you’re little
and you’re sad and won’t say it
but the muscles in your face
are forced into a frown that won’t go away
except that I’m sixteen,
and i’m happy and i’ll say it
the muscles in my face are floating into smiles
i’m happy and content
like i haven’t been in years.
i need to be next to you.