speak now or forever hold your peace

if you don't say it now, they wont hear you

they've got things to do and places to be and they've never needed your hand in theirs

you're just a person

a person who doesn't have a place to be or a thing to do

you spend so much damn time following other people that you don't even know why you carry around maps

but somewhere near the end of may you'll be alone without a footstep to follow and you'll be thankful for the maps in your hand

you drew them for 12 years because they told you to and the early ones are covered in crayon and the more recent ones are done in black ink

you'll need all of them combined to get you anywhere

and at some point you'll look up from the maps you drew and realize the world isn't as flat as it looks on paper and people aren't as mean as they seem in movies and someone's gonna love you in a way that Nicholas Sparks could never tell in 300 pages

but you won't see it unless you look up

and they won't hear what you have to say unless you speak up

fire insurance not included

I could write a novel about the reason that goodbye was the wrong choice

But I get it

I knew that sparks weren't enough to keep the fire lit

We needed lighter fluid or flint and steel or just a better stack of firewood

BUT I WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION WHEN WE BUILT FIRES AT GIRLS CAMP

I think I was in my cabin screaming because there was a mouse

But shouldn't boys have an innate ability to build fires?

I guess if my plan was to leave it to you then I have no chance at staying warm through the night

Because you weren't prepared, boyscout, and you let me down

But I get it

I knew that learning how to be happy on my own would be good for me and I've proved myself right this time

I'll go back to life without you and I'll forget about the fire you started in my fingertips

It singed my hair and the smell made me sick but I forgot because your eyes were a perfect shade of blue 

The kind of blue that reminds me of Mondays in June

The kind that meant sunburns and open windows in the nighttime and dropped snowcones left to melt

Your smell worked it's way through the fibers of my clothes and it's gonna take more than a rinse cycle to get rid of it

And you smell like campfire and disappointment and every shooting star that just turned out to be a cruel piece of burning rock for little girls to waste their breath on at night

And this time I was a little girl with the naive notion that wishes on stars actually make it past the panes of my window

I just don't remember wishing for blue eyes to break my heart