When all is lost, all is left to gain.

a long time ago, i remember thinking i was ready. i remember feeling like water on glass. hearing airplanes, right here past my window. it was never like this. when you used to tell me you cared, we'd sit in the field while it was 40 degrees outside. i would say help me, and you would carry me into the net, and hug me under fiber. this meant so much to me. this showed me you cared. now, you sit in the driveway, and i know you're not waiting for me.
and so when he stepped off and declared it, she said yes. this always happens. i miss seeing the orgami hanging down your cieling, he would say. and she'd throw the book aside and say, no you just miss sleeping over. this is what happens when you sit crisscross behind the church bench, and kiss little boys, while choir notes pass over thier tiny feet. you were a bad little girl, but you held breath, and hope, much longer than you do now. everytime i would see you tug space between your clothes, you would look at me and smile, and it would be so easy. but now, your hands are stuck between sheets and window stills. lets go hide behind here, but i would never. theres no snow today, and there are no stands outside. and now, you take slower steps to your choices. one thing is being impulsive to sin. another is walking slowly to it.
this is you, the flame,
this is me, the moth,