Write a post inspired by your sixteenth birthday. Prompt here.
Dear Sweet 16,
You were the best year of my youth. Driving around in the old beat up Buick. Learning what love was in the backseat of a car. Playing make believe, dressing up as an adult. Working in a card shop, selling dreams and sweet whispers you wholeheartedly believed in. You wandered with your eyes shut, and followed no particular path other than bliss. You didn’t cry once that year, in fact, you didn’t know how. But he taught you, along with other things. How to kiss, how to love, how to lose your heart and weep for it to come back. And when you cried, they were the sweetest tears, for the best years, of my youth.