I can’t stand the sight
of rain spattering outside.
I think about you.
The drops are your eyes
and the thunder is your voice.
Do you hear me too?
My voice gets drowned out,
as I yell to you, “Please! Stop!”
You smell like flowers.
The flowers I found
with you, next to the river.
They are wilted now.
Maybe you can help.
Water them with your farces.
So they too can flow,
Down to the table
where earth meets rain and I meet
you - I don’t want you.
Okay, okay, I may have said I write sad poems, but I’ll be honest. I write words, that’s it. I sometimes will get an ache right in the middle of my chest, and for no particular reason I feel like I should grab a pen. Then, I don’t know, I kind of just jumble out a cacophony of words that are sort of like a stream of consciousnes - I don’t know if you’ve read Hemingway - anyways, that’s sort of the best way to describe it in layman’s terms.
What do you mean really? That’s how I write! Okay, okay I guess it does seem hard to understand. But, what I write isn’t about the kind of writing it is, it’s like I’m literally ripping a piece of my soul out and pressing it to paper. I write what I feel, and I feel every second of what I write.
What’s that look for? You’re the one who asked me!
Okay, just drink your wine, I want desert. How do you feel about cheesecake?
The air crackled with intensity, and my limbs tensed as if sensing what was to come. The ropes, taut around my body, pulled my knees to my chin and my arms rigid behind my back. I remember my mind wandering away from my body, my only thoughts pertaining to him. His ripped jeans, his rock-hard member, and his demands, dripping with authority able to gods to their knees. And then, I remember the door opening, his heavy footsteps falling in line with my breathing, or was it the other way around?
"Baby girl?" He questioned.
"Y-yes sir?" I had to clear my throat. I hadn't spoken for twenty minutes.
"Do you remember your safe words?" His voice carried heavy promises I eagerly anticipated.
I am in pain most of the time. My pain is physical, yes, but an emotional layer lay dusty, deep beneath the surface. I laugh around other people and I make jokes, say I'm over things, but I can tell you right now, it's all bull.
No, I am not depressed. I am insecure and mad at myself almost constantly. I feel stupid and I feel pathetic and I feel angry for feeling the way I do and I wish that I could change it all and just feel anything other than those three things for one effing minute of my day. So I do yoga and attempt to meditate sometimes, and it works, for a while, but then as I rub my buddhist necklace above the comforter in a room I filled with expensive furniture as if it was a message to my soul, the emotions drip right back in like a dirty, broken, and forgotten faucet.
Why you ask? I literally broke up with a guy I was in love with five years ago, and cannot forget him or let go of him. I am being serious. I was 13 years old and I broke my 17 year old boyfriend's heart for literally no reason at all. I was happy, in love with him, and he gave me constant butterflies. I can't even recall why I got scared and called it off. He did try at one point to touch me, which I told him no and he apologized and that was that, but I wasn't scared about that, more afraid he would think I was ugly or something.
I know what you're thinking. He wanted me for sex, I didn't even know what love was, in fact, we were plain too young to be in love, but I am telling you right now, when my chest physically hurts when I think about him five years later? I had to be in love with him.
He came into my life like a beautiful tsunami and left like the aftermath. On a side note, maybe that is why I am afraid of drowning. Anyways pretty much I just feel stupid because I still think about him a lot and constantly look at his Insta going back to the picture he posted the day after I broke up with him and thinking jesus what is actually wrong with me? I ruined my chance at really what could have been my forever. I actually brought up the courage to talk to him a year or so later, apologizing, thinking it would give me some sort of closure, but he told me he thought he was pressuring me into a serious relationship I wasn't ready for. All I wanted to tell him was that I wanted it back and I was ready, but I closed up and said yea.
I am so sad at myself, I have ruined every other relationship I have had since. All for the same reason: I CAN'T STOP LOVING HIM.
If I remember correctly, we were at my house in the finished basement playing spin the bottle. To set the scene, there were six of us. Myself, my sister Summer, my best friend Megan, Thomas, his brother Hunter, and Hunter's best friend Michael. There was no point to us playing this game, as we all already knew who we would kiss and who we wouldn't regardless of the bottle in general. But, we began, Summer taking the first tumultuous turn of the bottle. Giggling, Megan shoves me, pointing to a blushing Hunter and a devilish Summer.
Time goes on. The parents are attempting to ignore the obvious downstairs as they watch some movie. We put music on at some point, and all of a sudden everyone is staring at me. I look down and the neck of the bottle shoots a hole through my knee. My gaze reaches T, no doubt my cheeks a deep tinge of burgundy, and I immediately resist.
Standing I shout, Oh my God, no, no way! Laughing, the boys shove each other around and T looks kind of lost, never one to brag about girls. I reach his eyes and turn around, my heart beating a tad bit too fast. My heart is in my throat and it isn't necessarily in a good way. I tighten my arms around my torso, still facing away from the group, the moment being on the edge of forgotten when Megan whispers to me, he'll get sad if you don't boo. A sad form of peer pressure now ingrained in my brain, I glance at T and find him standing up. He begins to turn around and I, the decision made, yell Fine!
Using exaggerated movements and overcompensating for my insecurities, I lunge at Thomas and he recieved me into his arms. I don't remember if it was good, in fact it probably wasn't seeing as how I was 13 and he 17, but I kissed him nonetheless.
I remember, as cliche as it may be, time stopping. It felt like I never wanted to breath again, and then it was over. Immediately, I blushed and turned away, but T didn't let me. He snaked his arms around my stomach and hugged me to his front. Whispering in my ear, he said something which I only remember only made me fall for him more.
Then, the bottle long forgotten on the beige carpet, the mass of hormones ascended the stairs, never to speak of the miniscule 5 minute game of Spin the Bottle again.