Poem of the Week: “Nostalgia Ft. the Here and Now”

A Poem Between 19 and 26

  • Courtesy The Author

“Nostalgia ft. the Here and Now”


i’m waiting for summer days
always waiting for summer days, it seems.

but what’s so good about sun-drenched memories?
what’s so good about the shade of red my skin was
after we went to the beach, or how the saltwater tasted
when we crashed into waves at full force,
doing cartwheels on the ocean bed,
reliving memories that had only previously existed
in our wildest dreams, the fairy tales of children,
of what being a teenager is supposed to be about?

i know i’m not an adult yet.
i am still growing, and learning, and
doing all those things that teenagers do,
like rebelling and skipping school sometimes.

because no i don’t take school seriously and
maybe i never will, maybe all i need is to

stroke your tattoos with my fingers which
no doubt were shaking with nervousness,

kiss you in the dark with my skin flaming hot
and my heart beating too fast.

but sometimes it’s a winter night,
and the sky has already turned black,
and i’m home inside with sweet tea and
yes, everything feels alright.

and we sled down mountains,
skate circles around each other,
wrap our scarves around our necks and
huddle together arguing about just
how many degrees below zero it is today.

and those weekdays where we go to school,
during spring or winter or when the leaves are falling,
sitting in class discussing books we didn’t read
or sipping coffee because we’re old and mature now.

(no, i still miss those summer days,
the ones where i roll down the street on
my purple roller blades
and shout YAHOO as the wind blows my hair
in and out of my face
like windshield wipers, and i can see perfectly clear—
this is the way things should be,
this is the way i should feel)


today, i decide that being an adult doesn’t mean i have to relinquish my lust for life.

that free time and time free are just another part of me.
that growing pains mimic the odd sense of liberty I feel when waking up from a dream,
exchanging this life for another.
i hold 19 close to my heart,
like seventeen, sixteen, and twelve,
shades of myself peeling forwards and back like a never ending onion I use to season the stew.

i sink into my skin, i breathe deep.
summer days are waiting for me.

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