The modern era of teenage romance
is a stitched together mask
of hatred and false maturity
mixed in with the justification of wrong doings.

Hands and hearts violently crushed under the weight
of empty promises and apologies from those with
twisted tongues
traveling through the beginning and ends of heartache
only to leave us with a generation of fragile hearts.

It takes patience and bravery to find the person
that sees your scars and calls them beautiful
the person who willingly places bandaids over the
scratches and bruises.

Maybe they’re miles away,
asleep when you’re wide awake and staring at their photographs
maybe you had to kiss manipulation on the lips
before finding theirs
but you end up discovering them.

I had been so blind as to assume that
first love
meant the most significant series of events
that a life would ever string together.

Yet one hand intertwining with mine,
eagerly dragging me onto the dance floor,
one slow song with a constellation of freckles
just inches away my face,
altered that mindset altogether.

Finally, in the modern era of a teenage romance
where it seems as if we’re nothing more than a stitched together mask
of hatred and false maturity
mixed with the justification of wrong doings

​

sometimes all you need is a pair of muted emerald eyes,
a person with more jokes to tell than time to spare,
and a beautifully loquacious individual
who’s ready to walk through life with their heart kept away
to remind you of how much you love being a teenager in love.

​

                                   -----------