You with the hoodie and the sarcastic comments, talking tough and dismissing all that disrupts your world view,
then you, beauty queen, with the resting bitch face and not much else.
(all is well as long as your boyfriend brings you Starbucks in the morning.)
Disdain for me,
I am too old,
I know nothing,
because you are invincible and will never die,
who would ever listen to someone like you?
You who claims reading books is among his greatest pleasures?
Memories are pressed between the pages of the old man’s mind and he relives them all the time, wondering if that girl will have any memories other than the way she manipulates that young man that waits for her after class?
All their memories are digital and there are no mental movies to remember the past,
around which to reminisce and bond.
(does anyone have a charger?)
They don’t see how memories fade with time,
and how I almost understand how you dismiss me and then I laugh to myself at all your shallow replies and less than thoughtful comments.