Floral shirts, and seaside views remind me of those tear stained days.

Love stricken, seasick kids we were, the humid air did us no good.

We made paper boats out of dollar bills, watched them float away along the citrus stained air.

Our dreams were big, our hearts were young, protected from all to come.

A boy and a girl, one rich, one poor, what a match we were.

You invited me to a dance one perfect summer night.

I wore shells in my brunette hair, found on your families private beach.

You kissed my hand, then pulled me in, twirled me as we laughed and danced.

After the songs had run their course, your hands found their way to my hips.

The fit, it was perfect, as if my body was molded just for you.

I stared into your eyes, you stared back.

I had to remind myself to breathe.

And so I did, I breathed you in.

Your lemon scent felt all too much like home to me.

Your hand then cupped my cheek, sending shivers of electricity through me.

Your thumb rubbed against my skin, I felt peace.

You walked me home, put your own jacket around my shoulders as a breeze passed through.

My love for you was true.

All was good in the world, all was good since I was with you.

Really, I should’ve expected what came next.

I should’ve known not to get attached.

Looking back the signs were there.

As the summer ended our love grew scarce, you grew bored.

To you I was just a poor girl you met at the beach, nothing more and everything less.

To me you were everything.

I watched the paper boats we built sink to the ocean floor and with it sank your teenage lies and filthy rich guys as fragile as a summer love.