Because lying to your kids about sex helps nobody. Telling them that sex is “only between mommies and daddies” is a lie that leads to confused, hormone charged teenagers. Telling them that sex is “only something that happens when two people love each other very much” is a lie that causes hormone charged teenagers to confuse “love” with “lust,” or “obsession.” It leads to leaps of logic like, “If I have sex with them, we must be in love.” Or worse- “If I love them, I have to have sex with them.” And how many teenage tragedies are based on that misconception?
‘Cause one day you’re fourteen and you’re spelling someone’s name and telling them - it’s nice to meet you - with a flutter in your eyelashes. 1, 2, 3 breathe. It’s 2am and you’ve been texting all night and you nearly kissed the other night. The stars echoed like the rushes down your spine and when he left you said no, no, no. And you told him about the boy before, the one with hazel eyes like flashing lights saying go, go, go. ‘Cause when he walked he had somewhere to go and when you weren’t looking he took a free throw. To the girl behind the counter of the beach store down the road, and when you finally left, he said so, so, so? But the boy from down the road, no, he could nev-er, ever, ever be told. He told you ‘bout his little sisters and took you flowers in a dozen rows. He kissed you like the winter kissed spring and they we’re never meant to meet, no, no, no. But he didn’t care; he used to say that dreams were just exaggerated realities-ties-ties. ‘Cause he knew that the sun burns and water drowns, but he chose to venture on the line of his worst fears. And when he visited you in November, told you bought the world and how you shine past the skies and the summer lights, you said oh, oh, oh. Because to stare into his soul was like trying to fight desire, it could be contained but would always be a liar. Oh, one day you’re falling for him, the next you’re falling apart. And you’re screaming the sky down, and the lights in the street shine blood red behind the lids of your baby blue eyes. You text him at 3am and you break your phone, choose to let it go, go, go. Put on your high heels and said baby, never mind. Still it burned on rainy nights, taught you why to be wise, wise, wise. ‘Cause you remember when it all started, when you’re fourteen and you’re spelling someone’s name and telling them - it’s nice to meet you - with a flutter in your eyelashes. Don’t worry; when it comes to lightning, there’ll be even bigger flashes. ‘Cause maybe you’ll fall in love with yourself the way you fell in love with the boy on the swing who knew the world before you knew your neighborhood. And maybe you’ll find out that there’s more to life than spelling someone’s number and tasting your name on their tongue, tongue, tongue. Don’t worry ‘bout it darling, you’re only young, young, young.
- this poem makes no sense but neither do my thoughts most days
written by me (ALO), for more please follow my writing blog here.
♡ (via foxxieswriting