Fifteen.

Shrug off the shroud of slumber worn and grab your phone, her ringtone creeps into your ears and firmly torn across my veins,that sicknessseeps as gentle as that simple thought, caught short infrozen softnight air - we made our heat, your back pulled taut against my fingers, brushing there against your mind I rested mine and spoke with quiet, halted care afraid to lose that silent shine around your face and eyes and hair but now, my thoughts can only dwell on her, the one you couldn't tell, that silent night, when once we fell. Fifteen.