I Was a Teenage Poet II

I wrote this on March 4, 1991. Paragraph breaks do not appear in the original handwritten manuscript. Punctuation is as it was.

Lie on the floor shaking
As I start to write
These desperate words
With the coming of night.

My heart races hectic
As my knuckles clutch red
The silver-cased pen
That my mind has fed

With words to explain
How I feel about you,
But I stumble and falter --
What to say? What to do?

My body floods numbness
As I scribble on.
My mouth motions dumbness
As I think of things gone.

You are very special
Just one of a kind
And I am really happy
That you were once mine.

But I am thoughtless
To think I could own
A person that is more
Than flesh and bone.

We shared some good times,
Our hopes and our dreams
But the end comes
Or so it does seem.

My spirit wanes as
I think of you gone
Force myself to stop feeling
And say, "Life goes on..."

Our age serves as boundary
That we fought to tear down.
It serves as an obstacle
Against which we were thrown

The recent past stands
A blurry nightmare --
What did I do that
Said, "I don't care."

The high-school ex-girlfriend about whom I'm sure this was written was a freshman while I was a senior. It was the first time I'd ever dated someone younger than me.