Foolish.

You grown man of eighteen,
so entranced with me,
me this whimsical girl
of four years minor.
You foolish boy.

You hold me with grace
and press your lips
upon mine gently,
leading to my bitter rejection.
Apologies aren’t enough.

You sing your song of
guilt and sadness,
and expect my decision
to suddenly differ.
My decision remains.

I will always only be
this whimsical girl
of four year minor,
running in the distance.
You foolish girl.