"Fifteen"
A Late-Night Lament
[Apparently, I wrote this on 6.1.8 ... I'm not sure why I never posted it, but I just now found it again, and the timing is ... well, convenient, to say the least. So as it turns out, I guess this is the only poem (if you can call it that) I wrote in the year 2008. I didn't think there was one, but here it is. Enjoy.]
[Ambiguity is my middle name.]
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Lights are flashing.
The bass is booming.
Voices are screaming with laughter.
The temperature is rising.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
I start to sweat.
My mind is racing.
Too many thoughts.
I look up into the dancing flickers of light on the ceiling.
I strain my eyes with their vivid trance.
I try to get my mind off the moment and pull myself together.
I sort through my thoughts;
I bite my lips in a self-afflicted potpourri
of anger, confusion, guilt, passion, shame.
Yet the only thought I can see with any semblance of clarity
is the one word sending murmurs across my lips:
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Nothing else crosses my mind.
I push it all out, anyway.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
I know it's wrong, but it feels so right.
Isn't that how it always goes ?
I look down with a heavy sigh.
I see her face, and my heart skips a beat.
I stare into her shimmering eyes.
Losing myself, I close my own.
I can't help it.
It's always the same story.
Is it all in my head ?
My imagination running away with me ?
Or, worse yet ... is this real ?
Does it mean something ?
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Either way, I end up disappointed.
There is no satisfactory option.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Do I cut off what I know will never work,
for what has the potential to last,
but which might be a daydream in the first place ?
Or do I pass up a chance at something better,
to stay with what has worked out up until now,
even though lately it hasn't been making me happy ?
Or can I somehow give them both a try ?
Do I act now, and make a choice before it is too late ?
Or do I wait it out, for Fate to run its trying course ?
Do I need to let these feelings settle into their rightful place ?
Should I factor in the look on her face when I tell her,
"there is another girl" ?
What if I don't love her as much as I thought I did ?
Is she still worth it ?
And if I do, should I let her go because of it ?
This is what plagues my sanity at two o'clock in the morning.
I had a dream the other night -- there was another girl
getting in the way of our togetherness.
I had a hidden, burning desire to be with someone
who could promise me more than a year if she wanted to.
I kissed her.
And after the initial shock,
it was the smartest move I had ever made.
Now, back to reality, I have a hidden, burning desire
to be with the one whose smile brightens up my day,
who chuckles at my small talk and expects no more,
who isn't afraid to go for what she wants
even when she doesn't know I want it too.
The one who has always been the best friend
a guy could ever have,
who has given my life that extra bit of flavour
just when I need it most ...
for the past four years.
So should I kiss her ?
Maybe if I made a move
-- not maybe, definitely, I mean, I'm sure --
I could settle the matter once and for all,
and determine, quick-and-easy,
where to draw the line between fantasy and reality.
But then again ...
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
I open my eyes.
There she is, humbly stunning as ever.
She sits down and zones out
of the sweating, the music, the dancing,
the headache-waiting-to-happen.
She doesn't close her eyes, but simply stares blankly
into the air, into nothing.
And I can sense that somewhere beneath the pretext
of her cheery demeanour,
there lies a deeply troubled girl
with everything on the line.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
And I wonder whether my intrusion
into the melodrama of her life
will, in the long run, relieve her of her tension,
or force her into an even more uneasy position.
There is only one way to find out.
Fifteen.
My mind spinning, racing, fifteen, fifteen,
I resist the sudden, fifteen, heart-wrenching urge
to get away from it all.
Fifteen.
All I want to do, fifteen, is lie down somewhere quiet
and sulk in my fifteen lonesomeness.
But no, fifteen, that would raise questions.
Fifteen.
Fifteen questions are the very last fifteen thing
I need fifteen right now.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Fifteen.
Answers would be fifteen nice.
Answers.
Even just one would make my fifteen day.
But all I can think about is fifteen
bloody fifteen, fifteen, fifteen, fifteen.
There is no escaping the fifteen truth.
She isn't fifteen right for fifteen me.
It wouldn't work fifteen out.
It wouldn't be fifteen right.
It's wrong, fifteen.
All wrong, fifteen.
Fifteen, for goodness' fifteen sake, fifteen !
Fifteen, fifteen, fifteen, fifteen, fifteen !
I can't change fifteen.
Face it.
She is fifteen.
