Last night.

In all the lies I've fed myself
the tang maturity festers
softer
and i can trick
and knock the fumes from my mind
and the violins in my ears will play pizzicato instead

but then blue eyes stare into my world and i'm 19 years old.
And all the shivers and subtleties
of wisely worked mannerisms
fade into elsewhere.

So here's what i'm pondering
in all my swimmingly grown-up worlds
that i've sown and patched at for years,
what was that about?

You fell on me,
could the conincidence of wet lips on my
own giggling things
purely be bad timing and gravity?

I suppose, but
It doesn't matter either way,
'cause that's what you're playing it off as
just that.