"Goodnight sweetie," my mom says as she turns out my bedroom light and shuts the door.
Instantly, my heart starts to race and I whisper "no, not the dark.
Please don't leave me alone with the monster."
I lay in bed clutching my little dolly with the blanket over my head as my vision blurs.
Even though my blanket is warm, I feel my body go pale and cold.
He's coming to get me, this is my final night
And no one will ever know how I died
I somehow hear the window unlatch over my hearbeat drumming in my ears.
I pull the blanket further over my head and try not to panic.
Keep it together, maybe he won't see you.
I hear the footsteps approach my bed.
My face is wet from tears and my whole body starts to shake.
There's a tug at the blanket and I know its all over.
Im dropping my phone slow, no where to go, a provocative photo to, a dance in the snow, a kiss without ending, a night with a show, a shoulder with out crying, and gone to fast but forever slow, I'll hold you until our forever sunrise, and kiss away our rapture lies, you will hold onto me tight, and we'll holds until the end of the night
i will wade out
till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
Will i complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
After a thousand years
And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
Dear Heavenly Father, I have a confession to make.
For I have received yet another heart break.
She stole my heart, broke it in two,
Then said, “I’m no longer in love with you”
Father, why does she have to be this way?
Please tell her I don’t want to hear what she has to say.
Father, for I have committed a sin,
That day when I let her in.
I want to forget her & what we once had.
All because she lied to me and made me sad.
Father, I am done playing her game.
I’m done with her handing me all the blame.
So if you would father, help me out,
And please show her what this is about.
For I still love her father
But she doesn’t love me so don’t even bother.
She said it was all a lie,
Father she made me cry.
I am weak but have to be strong
Father, what she did was wrong.
I know that now, I knew that then
Please father; get rid of these horrible women.
She used to control me father
Stop what things used to be.
I guess what we had was fake father.
This is the confession I had to make
She never loved me father.
So please don’t even bother
I don’t need someone to hold me tight
I was wrong & they were right
All I need is something that’s not there father
All I needed was for her to care
Father I do not want to let her go.
But its time, and we all know.
Father, my confession may be sad, or a bore,
But my heart hurts so much more.
Pleases father take the pain.
Remember she once said I was a little insane.
Take away the scars caused by this knife.
Oh please father, just take her out of my life.
I miss her so much father.
I miss her kiss and her touch.
For I must leave father,
Cause no one will ever replace me as the babies father
This is my confession.
They all said she was ‘my obsession’.
Father the time has come for me to stop needing her,
Now I believe them father.
Father I need some help down here.
Because you knew loosing her was my fear.
Now you’ve heard my confession, the one I had to make,
So please forgive her for her love, that was so fake
I don't know what more had to happen to push me over the edge
I was at the carnival and I had this vibe, this feeling
I thought I would see J
And low and behold, I did
It was really nice to see her and talk to her
I haven't seen her since May
Okay, this is the part where I get sarcastic
I was really nice to her......
With her boyfriend........
And having their arms around each other
I don't know what hurt more:
Seeing her with him
Or knowing that she would never feel the same
She introduced me to him and I acted cool like I didn't care, even though it was really bothering me
I faked a really good smile
It hurt, but I got through
The best part was when she left, even though I hate to see her go
I didn't have to deal with guilt
I thought I'd be sick
I tried drinking something, but that made my stomach feel worse
Anyway, she waved and said bye to me
It was nice
She hadn't forgotten about me
He watches the school bus turn off and out of sight. He'd see Elaine get off at her stop with her sister and others. She didn't look up at him as the bus drew away. Preoccupied, deep thought, maybe. Some one had a called out, see you Frumpy. She didn't respond or didn’t hear. That Tidy kid, probably; mouth on him like a horse. John walks up the side of the road towards the cottage. he thinks of her, her slow walk along the aisle, looking away from him. Shy probably after that kiss on the sports field, lunch time. Or annoyed. He doubted, shy more like. He sighs. Cars whiz by. Too fast. He wonders what she made of the kiss. Lips to lips, touching just on. Brushing soft. Didn't want to press on her. Hand on her arm, gently, holding. His other hand; what had that been? Touched her back, felt bra strap, just there beneath fingers. He enters the front gate, closes carefully. Click of metal lock. The garden has been freshly dug. His father dug yesterday, carefully, back into it, machine like. I helped, not really my scene. Did my bit. He opens the back door and enters in. His mother is at the wood stove, cooking dinner, dark haired, blue of eyes, flush of skin, heat and rush. He says his greetings; she asks of his day at school; he smells the cooking, smiles, passes by, and up the stairs to his room. He closes the door. Peaceful. He goes to the window and peers down at the garden. Small orchard of apple trees to his left, hedges surrounding. He sits on his bed, looks around the room. Few books by the window, boyhood favourites; Roby Roy, Treasure Island. Ivanhoe, others. A sheet of paper with a list of birds seen recently. Some unticked, rare. He hadn't expected to kiss her. Wasn't planned. He was just going to talk and get to know her. Better, more. Instead he kissed her lips. Brushed softly with his. Skin on skin. Exchange of juices. He licks his lips. Wonder if part of her is here still? He licks again. Tongue over lips, bottom, top. He picks up the list of birds. Unticked are rare. Did she touch him with her hands as he had her? He can't recall. Too suddenly done, unplanned. He felt her bra strap. Fingered it, briefly. The whole afternoon spent on thinking of her and the kiss and her lips. He sensed, when he drew her near to him, her breasts, cushiony, soft. Unintended. Some birds were from foreign climes. Unticked, but not forgotten. The book of birds is by his bed, well read, thumbed bruised. Something stirred in him when he kissed. A buzz along the wire of his nerves. Buzz in his groin. He turns the page over, birds ticked, more common, some more so. Odd that male birds had the beauty, females dull as mud. What did she think after the kiss? He had to go off as the bell rang across the sports field, needed to see what happened to him, as he kissed and after. Down below, dampish, unusual. In the boys' bog, he noticed damp stickiness, odd, unknown. All through afternoon lessons his mind was on her. Couldn't close her out. Lips seemed numb. Licks them now. Tongue over top and lower. Frumpish they called her, others. The glasses did her no favours. Her dark hair untidy, her eyes large and watery. Her lips partly open, teeth, smallish, white. Ears hidden by her hair, but just visible. She smelt of countryside: apples, hay, horses. She was shy, blushed after the kiss. As he had crossed the field, after the kiss, towards the school, his legs seemed jellied, wobbly. Tomorrow he would see her again, then what? Even on the school bus home, he avoided looking over his seat, to where she sat with her sister. He was tempted. Have a quick look, gaze casually, but he hadn't. Regrets now, too late. Should have. Just one peep. Goldfinch chattered almost the
all way home, sitting next to him, showing him cards, talking of school. Teachers. That teacher you like, that one who said, you'll be a writer one day? Yes, he had said. Been dismissed. Took kids home with him, in his lunch time, did things, they say. Oh, he had said, hard to believe, but there you go. All sorts. He'd not gone. Boys or girls? He had asked. Boys mostly, Goldfinch had said. A new teacher now. He should have looked and seen her. Her sister was loud and sparkled. Not his type. Kissed and then what? He puts the sheet of paper back. He takes some small binoculars off the shelf, and peers through the window. Scans the sky. Some one downstairs puts on the radio. His sister, probably, twisting the knobs, getting a station, music on and off, loud, soft. Elaine's nails, bitten down, ink-stained fingers. They played together the fingers. Nerves, twisting over each other. He noticed. Saw them. He was about to say about a butterfly he'd seen, over by the science lab, fluttering by. Fragile wings. Thin, God made, wonder they fly. Kissed her. Lips on lips. His heart thumped hard as a drum in a brass band. A blue tit over by the hedge. Two of them. Goldfinch, the bird, not the boy, was one of his favourites. Bullfinch, that too. He sensed her tongue as he kissed, tip of, not the whole thing. Some big boy had told him and others, one lunch hour, in the playground, about a girl he'd had, up in the woods, off the playing field. None had seen. Good quick go, the big kid had said, like entering a bloody cave it was, warm and hollow. A sparrow on the fence, two three of them. They sit and flutter wings. The big kid hadn't said what was quick or like a cave. The girl was bit of a slapper, the big kid had said. He puts down the binoculars, kicks off his shoes, and lies down on his bed. Closes his eyes. Eyes shut. Sees her, lips pursed, eyes open, large eyes like brown stones, through glasses. His lips make a kissing sound. Pretends to kiss again. Keeps his lips there. Not pressing, just touching, soft silk soft, hardly brushing, dust off a moth's wing soft. His heart thumps, he can feel it with his fingers, pressing. He wonders, odd for him, what she looks like, undressing.