Summer Heartache

He's still mine. My body and my heart can both agree with that. This boy is still mine, and I own that every time I touch him. He flew with me through the summer and soccer and wracking up as many blunts as we could before the sun set. We'd smoke at the abandoned playground by ourselves, wait for the sky to darken so we could soar through this city of twinkling lights, enjoying the eyes that shift awkwardly from the contrast of out faces to our locked hands. I sometimes wish that I could have that feeling back. We did everything together, and then some. When the world tried to separate us, we found each other. He'd show up at my window and throw rocks, and I felt like his little princess when I'd look outside and see him smiling up at me. I miss this boy, but it's impossible to really even miss him if he's still mine.