When We Were Young

You could find me on a Saturday night. Find me daring time and all the forces I can’t understand, wielding this blunt knife, the same one that cut my heart with the wounds that heal with patches. These rough patches paint a picture of lost battles, but you stay, oh you say, let’s take a photograph tonight, one that captures the magic, some perfect lighting on the fears behind our smile—a reminder of when we were young.

You could find me on a Saturday night. Find me defying the path that I can’t know for sure, going through tunnels, the same one with the lights out at the end leaving cuts on my feet, deep flesh wounds that heals with scars. These rough scars paint a picture of love lost, but you say, oh you say, let’s take a photograph tonight, one that captures love, some illusion to mask the pain behind our laugh—a reminder of when we were young.

You could find me on a Saturday night. Find me in the arms of the one I may not know, feeling safe in an embrace. The same one that drained the life from me, leaving tears on the lines my face curve, perfect trails where each teardrop. These tears couldn’t quench the raw ache for the one that got away, but you say, oh you say, let’s take a photograph, one that captures happiness, some pretense to hide the memories behind our eyes—a reminder of when we were young.

You could find me on a Saturday night. Find me with you, the same one I saved seven letters for, torn pages and bleeding ink, the same one that cost me too much. So much, leaving a crack, crooked lines that won’t be straight, can’t be straight for all the right reasons but you say, oh you say, let’s take a photograph, one we keep as a reminder, some hope we must have had—a reminder of when we were young.

When we were young