The depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity

Listen, im getting too old for a lot of things. but im not too old for words. for a bagy pair of jeans and my boyfriends t-shirts. im not too old for wine in a paper cup and a marlboro every once in a while. im not too old for peter pan and im not too old to quote holden caulfield. im not too old to lay in my bed all day trying to get this story out of my skin, trying to burn it through the paper and leave my thumb prints hanging from each corner. im not too old to read books under my covers with a flashlight, not too old to stare at the glow in the dark stuck on my ceiling at night. im not too old to ride around with the windows down and simon and garfunkel turned up. im no too old to jump on my bed and refuse to wash my hair. im not too old to run around barefoot with a smile stuck on my face even when times are hard. and im not too old to get out of here. next spring im taking off. to hear summer turn into fall. to listen as the leaves in a park somewhere whipser stories in my ear. to fall asleep in the rose gardens, wake up when winter laughs under my sheets. to write letters back home on paper napkins, make lightwaves feel like experiences. to make mistakes, to write poetry in the backest seat of a bus, to exchange a thousand awkward words with people ive never met, to do things i have never done on my own before, to fail miserably time over time, to fuck up and never ever ever give up.