Mom Jeans

I kinda like the old you, better than the new you
I wish I had the nerve to tell you why
but I never say it to you
remember in our first year
that was quite a long year
bigger better plans got their hands on us and everything was unclear
I don’t wanna fight you, I won’t even try to
and maybe in the spring time, we could make it our time
whisper back and forth on your parents porch while drinking shitty box wine
we’ll rent a slice-of-life film, pretending that we’re sixteen
you look like a dream messy hair, dark eyes
you were wearing mom jeans