Young Girl

By Yashika Vashisht

Here am I now, on one of those honeyed afternoons,

Sitting by the window, singing our tunes;

Those honeyed eyes weave enchantment

Too alive to be lamented.

Do you have any weapons on you?

That’s the only thing my heart’s been counting on to;

This is when the rosé accent of autumn chill wakes me up,

Reminding me of all the times I tasted the poison off of your lips and could never get enough.

Maybe one day you’ll understand the metaphors I out you in,

Maybe one day you’ll search for yourself among the ruins;

And I never knew how much of you I needed in my life until you came,

Now I’m here to play so please don’t change the rules of the game.

Maybe you’ll never love me and I will never satisfy you,

But maybe it’s not about being loved by you;

Maybe it’s about a young girl of fifteen,

Maybe it’s about some epiphany the girl had never seen.

By Yashika Vashisht