Seventeen. Gone.

Bright blue eyes.

The kind that suck you in,

A whirlpool.

Drowning you.

Before you’re washed back ashore.

Drenched.

Yet. Still yearning for more.

Seventeen. Gone.

A smile.

Shining through.

Even as you hold your straight face.

Poke face.

Waiting.

For the camera. To flash.

Hiding.

Your secrets.

As if.

The world is quite all right.

For now.

At least, in your book.

Seventeen. Gone.

Charismatic laugh.

Drawing in friends and family.

As you charm them.

Pushing, and pulling.

Shaping.

Molding your words so delicately.

To attain. Love.

Seventeen. Gone.

Gentle, sarcastic tone.

A constant rhythm, fluxuating.

Up. And down.

Up. And down.

Alongside your mood and your company.

Sending vocal daggers piercing into heart’s depths.

Or singing a sweet, soothing lullaby.

Seventeen. Gone.

All started with a song.

An innuendo, picking up with a crescendo.

Meet me at the..

Loooove Shack!

The b-52s, wailing each note.

As the smile travels across your face.

Covering it with that film of happiness.

One everyone admires.

The one I adore.

The same one you would hide behind.

Seventeen. Gone.

Ending with candy. With T shirts. With Camera shots.

With the last pink starburst.

The one I saved.

Just for you.

Seventeen. Gone.

You.

Inspired me.

You.

Lit the fire up inside of me.

Witty comebacks.

Clever conversations.

Our words.

Twisting and turning.

Spiraling.

Into one dialog.

As it rolled off and between dancing pink tongues.

We.

Us.

You.

You said. Don’t.

You said. Stay.

You said. I need you.

You.

Turned round.

Months later.

Took the easy way out.

Yourself.

You.

And me.

I.

Am alone.

Now.

Seventeen. Gone.

I.

Am missing.

The words twisting.

And turning.

Spiraling.

No longer.

Now.

Seventeen. Gone.