If someone gave me a time machine —
A time machine that worked —
I’d probably go back to a night of hushed voices and muffled laughter,
The only version of pillow talk we’ve ever known.
Being seventeen meant neither you nor I knew any better,
But, we were too busy talking to even notice.
We built our fantasies on nothing but clouds,
Wispy and filled with air, but so comfortable to float on.
I didn’t know the first word about love and you said,
“… and the best thing about him is that, he’s starting to fall for you.”
We laughed it off as a bad joke, but we hesitated.
There were many things I wish I’d asked you then.
But, I guess that little girl lived on those words for a week.
Put you on a pedestal built with the same pointless fantasies,
Just to watch you fall and not even being able to catch.