Oh my silly heart
and love clowning in
with all its grief and glory
and mascara trails
and the madness
of it all. Phone numbers scrawled
on scraps of paper,
fluttering down
onto the rails
and the sunrise
oblivious.
Youth’s a foolish time.
A quadrille forLillian at dVerse. Our word is “silly”.
Sarah writes poems 
I remember that so well, the ‘mascara trails and the madness of it all’. But we did it again and again. I wouldn’t do it now.
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Good observation at the end. Sometimes I wonder if I have ever gotten past youth.
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Ah….spoiled and/or unrequired love….a sad tale you’ve told with the word “silly” here….the feelings are raw within the words. Well done!
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I have a few memories of this… san mascara in my case.
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