A girly giggle, crazy in love;

High heels clicking against the floor.

With a single spin, landing on his chest;

Meeting him wasn't at all a mistake.

Was it?

Purple balloons flying above;

Laughing and jumping, "oh, I'm in love!"

He smells fresh, like my favorite cookies;

He smiles at me, and my heart's flooding.

In butterflies, is it?

He holds me close; I can feel his warmth;

We dance and beam; we were so much in love.

And then he kisses me like a whisper of everything;

My heart stops and flutters; my world's foggy Tuesday morning.

Is it something or everything?

Months are butterflies, seconds burn;

We wear fur coats and sing on Christmas.

We touch our hearts; we fall deeper;

We read books on afternoons and throw snowballs at each other.

We are in love, aren't we?

But hearts of twenty are dangerous;

They get in and out, tasting others.

Beautiful yet hard, pink yet black;

Sometimes these hearts can't carry loads on their back.

Was I going away?

He comes and gives me a bunch of roses;

Not red, but yellow; he says he needs spaces.

"Breaking up doesn't give spaces."

They hurt like scratching the same wound with glasses.

Are we not ever getting together?

I cry and cry and scream and scream;

I'm in pain and feeling foggy again.

He and I are all about each other;

We can hug and even wipes away our tears.

Do we really need this?

Love's just a fairy tale they dream

of; Love's sometimes hard—not exactly how it seems.

He loses his mind, and I lose my heart;

We fight and fight until one gives up.

Aren't we going to break up?

Years pass like motorjet;

We have broken up, and I'm not afraid.

I still sometimes see you in the lane:

A girl by your side, maybe your new girlfriend.

Hang on—did we ever do that girlfriend-boyfriend thing?

We just had this little thing called love:

Bordered with black and white memories, bottomed with hearts.

How fragile yet fierce, how calming yet stormy;

We were young and fell in our twenties.

Didn't we?

But these fragile things are locked up

With a golden key in our hearts.

It was an exuberant fairy tale;

We danced and danced until we got exhausted and broke the spell.

Didn't we?

These fragile questions remain in the dark;

We follow our suits and deny those sparks.

But they shine and flicker each night—

But escape our rooms, and promise not to fight.

We were too late, I guess.