/slip/

Do you know that feeling of sand slipping through your fingertips? It starts out slow, then all at once you have sand in your shoes. You're left with a few grains here and there to remind you of what you used to have. You want to keep the sand but it's too beautiful to be constrained to just one hand. It wants to sail through the wind, as it should.

We smiled, sang, laughed, teased, kissed, and I scooped you up. I had you in the palm of my hands. Happy to finally be there and telling me you would never slip away.

Sadly, every day I feel you slip a little more. Every time I cry I feel some sand hit the floor. 

Every time I say "what's wrong" I'm left with less then before. 

I don't catch you staring, you're laughing less and less, I can't tell if you're faking or hurting and slowly my fingers regress. Don't get me wrong it's not all gone. Darling, I'm hanging on with all I am. The more I squeeze the more falls out the ends of my hands.... 

The other girls rejoice! They can't wait to scoop up the beautiful sand. When I turn around I see that they already are...

I wish I could say I saw this coming, but I didn't. I'm a hopeless romantic who thinks the world loves me endlessly. I thought the world would let her keep the sand forever.

But what the world gives, she always takes away. 

So I'm standing here hiding my tears clutching to what sand I have left. Waiting for him to start a new chapter. Waiting for me to grow up. Sand was never meant to be kept. At least not for this long. So all in all I was lucky. To have such beauty cling to my hands as long as it did. Too feel such fire in my heart. Eventually luck runs out and reality hits. And the real world is cruel. I don't wanna grow up. I don't wanna grow up. I don't wanna grow up. I don't wanna pay bills. I don't wanna pay for class because then I have to go. I don't want to go on dates with boys who already have rings in their pockets. I don't want to talk my friends once a week through a screen. I don't want to cry anymore. I don't want to cry anymore. I don't want to cry anymore. 

All I want is my charming little sand in my hands. Whispering in my ear how beautiful I am. Making me feel like a warm summer rain storm. Holding each other for hours, and playing with his hair until he doses off. But he never was little. He's much too big for this town. And for my boney frail fingers.