14 years old. Love, real love. Hitting me like a truck in the form of a tomboyish brunette with eyes that cut me. Falling for your best friend is stupid but amazing. I’d still recommend it anyway. Secret dating, holding hands under the blanket. Parents find out anyway, assure me of the “phase.”
Broken Heart. Crushed. Dumped for my other best friend. I tell them to be together because their happiness exceeds my own in importance. My love comes back, cheats on me, and goes back again. It’s a cycle. I’m being torn apart in the cross-fire of my love and her lackadaisical manner. My heart is glass and she’s throwing it up higher and higher to see how loud the smash can be.
I move on. Date boys. Easy, Simple, Without all those messy emotional complications. I go through the sexual motions wishing I could feel it like they seem to. Any attempt with women further fucks with me. Never simple, never easy. Not safe. The complications scare me and I can’t ever follow through. Would rather not see the replay of my heart smashing.
For 3 years, I date guys. My first love continues to fuck with me when she gets the occasion. Random encounters with her make my blood rush again. Fever pitch. Stomach butterflies that feel more like pretzel knots. They paralyze me in a kiss what others couldn’t ever do. Until she uses me up. Used and dirty feeling like gum spit on the sidewalk. Tears shed again in the anger of it. I wash my hands clean of her mess and move on for good.
Gorgeous red-head with pleading green eyes. Tempts me to break chains of years to melt into arms of safety and love. I resist, held back by fear and a relationship which I gave my briar to, in hopes that it would elicit some feeling from me. Resistance was futile.
Parents yell, argue, attempt to persuade. To no avail. In the end, she accepted. Even supported and loved. He chose to ignore, praying for disappearance. Forbid me from telling his family. “Better left unsaid what you can’t take back”
October 24th, 2006. Two Years. Happiness? Yes…too much reality to be poetry.