Have My Best Years Escaped Me?

Perhaps it’s a little premature to be thinking this way. A mid-twenties thinking it’s only going downhill? When the thirties are supposed to be the new twenties? How novel. But then again, not really.
Perhaps it’s a little premature to be thinking this way. A mid-twenties thinking it’s only going downhill? When the thirties are supposed to be the new twenties? How novel. But then again, not really.
Your hair, strands sitting lazily across your face. The smell of the BBQ, blurring the space between us as it becomes part of the summer heat.
Our lives captured in single moments. But it told the story of the last four years better than we could.
You’d fall back down to earth and adjust your glance to me. And whatever was there just moments before glazed over. You locked it away.