When we were young, reckless endangerment was a daily treat at every water break. The confusion of whether or not to act on the pleasure that simply listening to your angelic voice would not keep me pacing the rooms of my restless thoughts. If my shoes still matched my age, I wouldn’t worry so much about being distracted by the compassionate shape of your hand clasped around mine. We could enjoy warm sand creeping between our naked feet at our favorite playground until the streetlights flickered to their elusive glow, or at least until afternoon cartoons began. We could quietly sit on the sidewalk drawing disproportional stick figures holding each other’s sticks as they stood under an incomplete rainbow. I’d crave our names into a huge oak tree to show you how much I liked you. On the other hand, I could always go to your windowsill in the middle of the night and confess my heart to your to the sounds of a live mariachi band. Things wouldn’t be so complicated and difficult to word, if I still spelled my name with half the letter backwards or upside down.
If I had the confidence that I had once when I was a kid, I could explain to you how the moment we met my heart wanted to break just so you could fit the pieces back together. I could summarize the mathematic equation that bubbles in my mind every time you look into my eyes (you plus I equals us). I could share my dreams with you in the form of a deserted piece of paper, except for two sticklike figures and arrows connected to names. If our lives of younger I could depend on your best friend doing all the work for me, and meeting you after school behind the bleachers. But those years are over, and these days situations call for maturity and forth coming. So perhaps I’ll just pass you a note and ask you to check the box that best words your answer. Will you go out with me? Yes__ Now__







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Hello, my name is...Gone.
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