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The Day I turned 15 (again)
And while the moon
and hidden stars
shone above me
through the
smog ridden
metropolitan sky
I turned 15 again:
sweaty palms,
dry throat and
a heart that would
NOT
stop
beating.
Longing to kiss
and be kissed,
to touch and be
touched,
I gathered up
the courage
to do so,
transforming
the roar of Monsters
of failure
and past regrets
to a silent,
hardly audible,
murmur.
It only happened days ago
and I still
replay our conversation
in my head,
the way your hand
accidentally touched mine,
and all the things
that seemed so
innocent at the time,
looking for a hidden meaning,
over and over again,
trying to figure it all out
and what it all means.
I put my arms around you
in the cab, kissed you,
and prayed
it would never stop
till it did
and you got off
and I turned into my old,
old bitter man,
former self,
somehow thankful
I was momentarily relieved
from being so.
poem
by
Carsten Thomsen
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