The Breaking Point

At 27 years old
You could not see the cracks on the surface
The water gushing out of the glass
Chipped and broken corners

At 27 years old
You cannot look past the shiny beauty
That magnifies even the tiniest of light
Light to the touch, and oh-so cold

At 27 years old
You cannot feel the steam rising up
Inside reaching the boiling point
The breaking point

At 27 years old
You see a masterpiece
Carefully crafted through the years
Aging beautifully like a bottle of wine

At 27 years old, however
I circle back at the things I've already known
Five years ago, without uncertainty

The truths I've tried to forget
Memories I've chosen to bury
Heartbreaks I've refused to face
Confessions I've never made

At 27 years old,
My heart still yearns for you
Dreamt of you one night
With the same intensity as if

I was only 17 years old
And we were on the moviehouse together
Tears rolling down your eye
But I resisted the urge to hold your hand

Never knowing how fragile the moment was
And how the distance between our hands
Would determine the farthest paths we could take

I wish we could go back
To when I was 17 years old
Perhaps I would have been braver
To risk it all and tell you that

At 27 years old,
Perhaps even at 37,
It is still you that I want.

*written before 27