I'd like to think that every year I age

Is like a snowglobe. 

Completely transparent with a sort of 

Focus in the middle. 

It seems calm, and clear. 

That is until you give a good shake. 

Here's to another year of flying glittery snow.

Bedhead. 

Pulchritudinous.

Currently my favorite word that does 

Not describe you.

I am a braniac of epic proportions, 

A scholar for the ages.

 

I'd hate to hurt you with my vocabulary.

Bedhead.

One for when I was 13, 

when I  cried more than smiled. 

Hated more than I loved.

And wished more than lived. 

There was one then. 

One for when I started high school, 

When I was uncertain and curious. 

When I hadn't quite figured myself out, 

And couldn't look in a mirror without scowling.

There was another one then. 

One for senior year, 

The end of an era, 

The start of something new. 

When I said goodbye to old fears, and old places.

And threw arms open to my future.

There was one then. 

One for now.

For now when I take on the real world.

Still scared, still unsure.

But there's courage in the words.

There's one now. 

Thank you.

Bedhead. 

Sometimes I wonder about you,

Are you secretly normal?

Are you even nice?

You're like looking in a mirror

Only I'm not sure what inane babble runs through your head.

Keep bluffing.

Bedhead.

Has it really been a year?

I took on the real world, 

Got to say I kicked some ass. 

I've got the black eye to prove it. 

Got a cold compress?

I needed to come back, 

Needed to put my feet back on the ground again. 

Fold in my wings,

And sit back for a while.

Learned a few lessons

And I'm a little worse for the wear.

But I'm still banking that he loves me, 

Or at least that's the joke of the day. 

I'm hanging my hat for a bit, 

Long enough to realize the sky is blue

And so are your eyes. 

The grass has never looked so greener. 

Bedhead.