The blindness to the butterflies
That tell you to run.
The blindness to the faults and facts
That say it's not a match.
The pink memories of a calm togetherness;
then, burned by dark revelations.
Dark revelations to white words.
The epitome of youth,
The epitome of probability,
The epitome of reflection.
You set me free
When you unshackled the chains
That unleashed my passion
To know that first love
Is young love.