If I could go back,
I’d have met you sooner.
Kept your fingers from being caught in the cruel pistons of the world.
Suffered the same locker-lined hallways,
Danced through the bleakness of youth.
Maybe then you’d have been there when I needed it,
But, more probably, you’d still leave,
And I’d just be-
And you’d just be-
A myth told in a hundred years,
Whispered to someone in love
With edges sharpened by time.