You & I
We met when I was naive. You were my brother’s best friend, and soon I fell head over heels for you. Your smile, your sense of humor, your eyes. You held me when I was sad, made me feel loved, and put up with me. Things went well for a while. But that’s all it was. You put up with me. I annoyed you. You never admitted it, but I could tell. Otherwise, why would you cheat? You said you loved me, as another girl was saying the same to you.
I knew. I knew even though you tried to hide it. I knew, but I did nothing. I let you believe my heart wasn’t breaking every time you smiled at your phone. I wondered how many I love you’s had been for her. Time went on, and you knew. You apologized, swore her out of your life forever. But it didn’t last. And I let it happen all over again, because I was scared of losing you.
I wish I’d known then what I know now: You were never mine to lose.
Months passed. People say it can only get better. They’re liars. It got worse. You used me. I was a toy to you. Some dumb little girl you brought into your life, and when I didn’t give you what you wanted, you threw me away. But not before you threw me on a bed. It wasn’t rape, no, you just pinned me down and scared me. I bruised your shoulder to get you off. You apologized, and I forgave you. You only scarred me forever. It’s okay. I’m okay.
But that wasn’t the first time I hurt you. I had a temper, and knew no way to control it. You hurt me, so I hurt you. Self defense for my emotions. I scarred your arm once. To this day, I regret it. Nobody should live with scars from someone they loved, though, I guess in your case it was someone who loved you.
It was my fault we broke up. Short temper on a bad night. An empty threat on New Year’s Eve to find someone else to kiss. I was sorry then, and I still am now. I tried to make it work afterwards. We tried to stay friends. We cut contact a few times - you called me a temptation, I ignored you, but we always ended up talking again.
I put up with a lot, but one time it became too much. That day I knew. That day you broke me. That day, you told me to have sex with you or go away forever. I don’t normally cry, but that night I did. I called my brother. He lost his best friend, and yelled at you the next day.
To this day, I’m scared of you. When you walk by, my heart stops and all I want to do is curl into a ball. I’m scared of someone whose forgotten I exist. How sad is that?
I have friends who sound like you, act like you. I have issues being around them. You’re everywhere I go, when all I want to do is avoid you. In class, on the bus, down the street. Each day I see you, it kills me a little more.
People say face your fears, but this is one fear I can’t bring myself to face.
Blades of Gold
My first attempt at poetry, written a few years back. My friend was going through some rough times, and one day in class I just started writing
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Dear child, please hear me
For I have been told
You slice up your skin
Use a blade of gold
It brings down tears
That flow like rain
And brings up blood
That only brings pain
School is a battleground
Each day, a strife
At night you dream of ending it
Using your father's knife
So here I sit by your bed
Begging, "Please don't cry."
"Tears of woe won't help you get by."
Soulmates
Saturday, December 31st, the night people meet their soulmates.
On the night of New Years Eve, at midnight, anyone over the age of 22 possesses the body of their soulmate for 10 minutes. Per custom, you leave a name and address or phone number, so once the night is over, you can contact each other. This is Tyler's story:
Turning in his seat, he eyed the clock nervously. 11:57. Only 3 more minutes until he'd meet the girl of his dreams. He faced the mirror once again, combing his mess of hair and checking to make sure there was no food stuck in his teeth. His phone buzzed. Looking down, he smiled at the message.
Good luck tonight bro. Hope you get yourself a real babe. I'm rootin' for ya
At that, the clock struck midnight. He sat back, closing his eyes and awaiting the moment that would either make or break his life. After a few seconds, he felt his surroundings change. The chair turned into a sofa, the hard tile under his feet became soft carpet, and soft jazz was playing from a stereo. Standing up, he looked around the house. It was nice; warm colors, not too big or too small, perfect for a single person to live in. Time was ticking. He made his way to the kitchen table, on which sat a notebook, pen, and mirror. Quickly scrawling his name, phone number, and address onto the paper, he picked up the mirror, looking at the woman he'd become. She was beautiful. Long, brown hair, bright, green eyes, and a smile that could light up the room wherever she was. 10 minutes passed, and he returned to the sofa, swaying gently to the jazz that played in the background.
The familiar chair and tile soon surrounded him as he returned to himself. Snatching his own notebook from the table, he read over the information-
Caitlyn Baker 2842 Hamilton Dr. New York, NY
High Class
"Heeey good lookin'~ Wha'cha doin'?"
Aleks looked up from the glass he was cleaning as the drunken man stumbled towards him. His breath reeked of alcohol and he could hardly keep himself standing. He leaned on the bar, uncomfortably close to the young bartender.
"Can I help you...sir?" He asked, moving to the other side of the bar. The drunk followed him.
"Yeah," he slurred, "gimmie a night with you." Reaching into his pocket, the man slapped a 20 dollar bill onto the bar and pushed it closer. Aleks shook his head.
"High class whore, are ya? Fine." The man stacked another 20 on top.
"Apparently, you're mistaken sir. I'm not a whore. Just a-" "Hey!" He stopped mid-sentence as a well dressed man walked up. He hopped over the bar and draped an arm across his shoulders, leaning close to his ear.
"Play along unless you wanna be that guy's date for the night." He whispered, just loud enough for Aleks to hear. Turning to the drunken man, he grinned.
"I'm terribly sorry, my friend, but you seem to have the wrong idea here. He," he motioned to Aleks, "isn't a whore, or even a high-class whore. Though he is a high-class man, if you catch my drift." He paused and laughed, then resumed talking. "This wonderful young bartender here, is my boyfriend."
The drunk stopped, looked the two of them over, then added 2 more 20's to the pile of cash sitting on the bar.
"I'll take both 'o ya for the night. Eh?"
Aleks leaned his head back against the wall of the bar. Looking to his left, he saw Rudy, the man who helped him, talking to a cop, explaining the story.
"You see officer, I walked into the bar, and saw that man," he motioned to the drunk, sitting in handcuffs in the back of the police cruiser, "hitting on this poor bartender. He looked so uncomfortable that I had to help him. So I went over and claimed he was my boyfriend. Then that... savage, tried to pay us for sex. So I did what any self respecting man would do."
The officer looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly is that?"
"I knocked his lights out."
"Right." The cop cleared his throat. "Well, consider this a warning. Another incident like this and I'll have to mark you down for disorderly conduct. We clear?"
Rudy gave a firm salute. "Transparently, sir!"
The officer rolled his eyes and went back to the car, driving off with the drunk man. Rudy looked around, then noticed the bartender sitting against the wall. Walking over, he sat next to him.
"Sorry for the trouble with the cops. You just looked so weirded out by that guy that I had to do something." Aleks waved a hand dismissively.
"It's fine. If it weren't for you, I'm not sure what would have happened tonight." He leaned over and pecked Rudy on the cheek, then stood up and stretched.
"It's been a long night," he offered a hand down, "come inside, I'll get you a drink. On the house."