"I don't know what I'm doing with my life or my hair."
Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.
You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.
You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.
You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.
"The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered."
|Reporter:||At the CMA awards earlier this month, Carrie Underwood and Brad Paisley cracked a joke about your reported breakup with Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s son Conor Kennedy. But the camera never panned to you.|
|Taylor:||They don’t pan to you if you’re not laughing.|
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