I was born for the distant shore.
Girl next door? That’s not me. I may look tame, but my soul belongs to the wicked wind. Do not judge me by youth or the smoothness of my skin.
You say that I don’t know what I want, that I am still a child—that my eager fingers grab at anything that speaks of adventure and challenge.
I know that you say this because your heart cannot believe what your ears have heard.
I’m exiting our love affair, and I’m breaking up the love nest you have so generously feathered for my comfort.
I was never going to stay, and I was honest about that from the start.
You were willing to take the risk—you said that you were not the type of man who needed love served for every meal. You had said it with that odd little smile you wear when you’re barely convincing to yourself.
We promised to play until the time came for me to travel on. You took my unfettered kisses, you coveted my naïve outlook on life. I used to love the way you called me “little girl” when I whispered my dreams to you in the dark of night.