the kids on the corner

Photograph by Louis Paulin

young love does not know if it should kiss on the corner. young love looks like it wants to make out with its shoes. young love is better dressed than its fourteen years. 

young love’s hair hangs over young love’s eyes like pins and needles. young love has already said goodbye several times. young love wants to say one more thing but isn’t sure what that thing is. 

young love’s mouth is a stuck zipper. 

young love would at least like a hug. young love doesn’t move in fear its arms might fall off. 

young love raises a hand like waving off a stinky waiter, like high-fiving a teacher. young love is a geography book. young love is a dying language class. young love feels awkward like a phonebooth. 

young love is 3g. 

young love waits until the absolute last moment. young love is a broken limb if every bone was about to be mended. 

young love splits like a passenger from the titanic. this is the start of young love’s history. young love can hear the water rising … or is that traffic? young love wonders why old people discredit magic. 

young love’s smile can stop cars. fortunately, as young love could have been hit by a suzuki. young love is mosses if the arc was wall to wall copies of love actually. 

young love is slightly confused. 

young love looks back several times, each time missing its reflection. young love looks back like you might look at a hundred dollar note covered in dog shit. young love looks back only to realise it’s actually chocolate ice cream. 

young love will eat anything.