with these revisions and gaps in history

The words rolled off of her tongue, and I swear it was sugar.

I mean, the complete bliss and giddiness and the things that come in between.

And I realized that I want that.  I want to be consumed by my girlish hormones and impossible fantasies.  Like, I want to create stories and thoughts and visions that fulfill some sort of longing for a boy who I find absolutely ravishing or some gross word like that.  It's whatever.

Because I realize that I don't have that now, even though I probably should.  I don't have that nervousness that captures your throat when you try to speak to him.  I don't have that fear of rejection that's completely irrational because you're pretty sure he really likes you, but, like, what if he doesn't?  Like, you know he's said it, but a lot of words have been said. 

I don't know, I don't think this makes sense.  Like, do you get it?  Am I being too literal here, or not literal enough?

I guess I just really want to know a boy who creates swarms of butterflies with his walk, with the curve of his lips.

And right now, I'm sorry, but that feeling is lacking.

- S.H.

sleep well

Things are different now.

The way we speak,

the way we laugh,

the way we wear our clothes.

I think I feel your heart,

but it's not the one I remember.

You've turned from innocence

to something

dreadful.

And I don't mean you,

but I mean your eyes,

or your hair,

or something inside of you that is not the thing I knew before.

It's just different.

I wonder when they all started making sex jokes.

Or, perhaps, when I started noticing them.

I'm sorry, 

but I've been ripping my brain to shreds.

- S.H.