The One with the Young Heart

It might have been a party or maybe a college bar.

Stolen glances, nervous hands, silent interest from afar.

My first relationship away. It felt big and very new.

Lots of movies on the couch and feelings that really grew.

Those nights were frequent then far between, I realized it was us he never wanted seen.

We didn’t go out to restaurants or to movies or to bars.

We didn’t hang out with friends, he kept me so afar.

I was lost in lust and went the way. I didn’t want to hear what I knew he’d say.

But he showed up at my door, a bouquet of promises and a bear.

He said, “I’m sorry about Valentine’s Day. I really do care.”

Then we were us and the couch, spending nights all the same.

Nothing new, nothing bold, nothing different came.

We met up that summer and had too much to drink.

We had fun and it made me think,

That we were just fine. This is what works for him.

But the light I thought was bright, was never more than dim.

It lasted nine months. No real good bye.

He simply stopped calling and never said why.

I wondered every day what he didn’t see.

The lasting relationship, the future. He didn't want me.

I eventually moved on with the scar on my heart.

For the man that held it, then tore it apart.

But he wasn’t a man. A boy does that shit.

A man has the courage to deliver that hit.

Years later he came back and said, "I'm sorry for that.

You look good, can we give it just one more crack?"

It's too late, my friend, but I’m glad you finally see.

You didn’t break my soul, you just set it free.