Life was good
The sun was setting with a sweet cold breeze of Autumn’s day
The smell of withering lawns across the neighborhood
The sound of children rocking back and forth on swings
A beautiful girl and a loyal friend
Life was good
The leaves die through the weeks
The year passes as each leaf falls
And so does a memory
That once was in my head
I thought I had a beautiful girl
I thought I had a loyal friend
All I had was a razor
Sticky with my own blood
Keeping me company
Until this year ends
"Hey loverboy," she says. I don't respond.
A rough draft excerpt from my story, Fictional Truth.
“Hey Loverboy,” she says. I don’t respond. I enjoy ignoring her for a moment after I come out of a day dream.
“Hey. Blake. Snap out of it boy. Time to come back to earth,” she says with her usual tone of pleased annoyance. This time I leave the world inside my head and return to reality. Slowly turning my head to the right, I can see those deep green eyes gazing up. I never get tired of her eyes.
“Come on, you said you’d help me here.”
“Sorry,” I say with a half grin and my best attempt at contrition. I look down to the papers in her lap. Right, math. I was helping her with calculus. She was really very good at math. We were in the same class, but she was two years younger than me after skipping two grades in elementary school.
“This one you just take the derivative of your function and plug in these two values.” I can remember these things effortlessly now, which was a huge accomplishment for someone who doesn’t particularly like math.
“See, this is why I keep you around,” she says, those rosy lips that I so adored pulled into a little smirk. She reaches up and kisses me. She always seems to find an excuse to kiss me. “You can go back to daydreaming now.” Indeed I do, retreating back to the dreamscape inside my head. This time I think back to when I met Clara.
I had just arrived on campus, a bright eyed college freshman. There I was, lost in a sea of more beautiful women than I had ever seen in my life. Small private schools had never been kind to me in that regard. Everything on campus was a wonder. Nobody from my high school had come here and I was very much alone, but I didn’t mind. I had outgrown most of my high school friends long ago. It was long past time for me to expand my horizons.
I found myself standing in front of a massive glass building. I wasn’t past checking my reflection in the glass windows. Had to make sure my hair still looked as good as it did when I arrived. Who knew when I might run into some attractive young lady? Opening the doors I caught a waft of the bookstore smell, unlike anything I expected. At home the bookstores were small, with dusty leather covers that begged to be handled and old people that smelled like coffee. This was completely different. The odor of panicked freshman and newly bound textbooks permeated the air. I decided right then I wouldn’t be spending much time there.
There was a long line extending towards the back of the building. Not knowing better, I assumed it was the line I was supposed to be in and slowly made my way to the rear. This would take forever. I pulled out my phone and started on another game of Angry Birds. I had been killing evil pigs for almost five minutes when I began to feel like I was being watched. Sure enough I glanced up to see a large pair of deep green eyes looking at me.
“You know, some psychologists say that technology is making us less social,” said the girl looking up at me. I couldn’t respond. She had straight black hair pulled behind her in a long ponytail. She had a small, perfectly formed nose with what seemed like a sea of freckles on it. Even more freckles danced on her cheeks. She was several inches shorter than me, maybe 5’9” and had on tight jean shorts and a black tank top that exposed only the most tantalizing amount of cleavage.
“So I’m just starting to feel a little uncomfortable with you undressing me with your eyes like that,” she said with the smirk on her face that I would soon come to know.
“Sorry,” I said, a tiny grin tugging at the corner of my mouth, “You surprised me a bit.”
“I’m Clara. This is the point in conversation where you tell me your name.” I liked her already. She had confidence and wit that was both abrasive and attractive.
“I’m Blake, pleased to meet you.” Damn I was smooth. Almost as smooth as a wagon over rocks. “Are you a freshman too?”
“Yep. Just got here. I don’t think this line is moving.” I really liked the way little dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth even when she frowned slightly.
“It really doesn’t seem to be. At least I have pleasant company,” I said. Oh man I was so smooth! I was really proud of myself right there. It was hard flirting with such a beautiful girl. She seemed to throw me off balance.
“Well, that was the least offensive flirting I've heard all day,” she replied. Good gosh this girl was straightforward. “It’s a good thing you’re cute or I might not have accepted that.” Cute. Okay, I could work with cute. “So you’re in psychology 1000?” she asked.
“Nope, I took that during high school.” I replied. Why would she ask that?
“Well, you’re standing in the psychology book pickup line.” She said with a slightly puzzled look on her face. I definitely was not in psychology.
“Oh, Psychology! I, uh, I thought you said, uh, philanthropy. Nope, I’m definitely in the right line. Okay, that was a lie and I was at least 100% sure philanthropy was not a class. But hey, I was under pressure and I needed an excuse to keep talking to this girl. She looked at me like I was slightly on drugs but moved on without hesitation.
We talked about various meaningless things while the line crept closer to the back of the store. I was constantly mesmerized by the deep green in her eyes. I had always been attracted to green eyes but they were pretty rare to see. When we got to the pickup window, she paid for her book and stepped to the side, watching me. I decided to bow out of buying a several hundred dollar book just so I didn't look like a complete idiot. I comforted myself with the fact that she might think it was funny.
“Soooo. I’m not really in philanthropy. Or psychology. I just didn't want to stop talking to you just yet.” I said with a sheepish grin. Luckily for me, she laughed right there.
“Alright then Mr. Blake, what books do you really need? Maybe we can go stand in line again.” I listed off several books that I needed for classes.
“Calculus. I need that one as well. Come on silly.” She turned her back and started walking. I followed right on her heels, a goofy grin plastered all over my face.
That was my first interaction with Clara. We spent the next two hours gathering all of our books, and at the end I carried her rather large pile back to her dorm room. I was promptly rewarded with her phone number and some cookies that her mom had packed. Normally I’m very pleased by cookies, but the phone number was worth so much more.
“Hey. What about this one?” Clara’s voice comes from beside me. I lean over to look at the paper again.
“This time just take the antiderivative of cosine and solve for x.”
“Oh right. That's the last one.”
“What do you want to do now?” I ask.
“How about we go to your room and see if we can make your roommate uncomfortable enough to leave?” She says with a mischievous grin, bringing those deep green eyes nearer to mine. She always seems to find an excuse to kiss me.
One day you look in the mirror
And you give yourself a thumbs up and say,
"I'm a champion"
And the next day
Looking back at the mirror
You think to yourself that what you see is repulsive
And that what you see is so disappointing
And you're not satisfied
And you start thinking,
"Is this really how people see me?"
Not good enough and never good enough
And you give up
And you stop trying to be that champion you saw yourself as before
When you're a child
You aim for the sky
You cast your nets far and wide
And aim your arrows high
Until the day that you realize that eventually everything falls
Eventually, the arrow will come back
And you don't have the freedom you thought you had
When you were young
And now you're stuck
Constantly looking into that same mirror
Thinking about all the time and money and resources that you don't have to do what you want
Or even the motivation to do what you want
Because now you know
That's not how the world works
The snow used to be sparkling and white
Now it's grey
Worn thin by the lukewarm days
Tired of pretending it's Christmas already.
The birds don't sing anymore
And I don't blame them
It's cold and the sun has gone into hibernation
Nobody is outside to hear them anyway.
The scars on my wrist are healing
Just in time for my concert
Good. I don't want to explain.
I'm tired of pretending as it is.
4.0 student, captain of debate team
Painfully, incredibly lonely
Like the birds, hiding in the bushes
Waiting out the winter
Nobody's around to hear me sing anyway.
The snow is grey, worn thin with impatience
So very, very tired.
You remember them nights?
Use too kiss ya lips..
use to touch your spots
"Baby just like this"
Damn look them hips..
sensation becoming to real
Seducing ya mind, I think things bout to get real
Do you feel how I feel?
Is this just an act?
Will you make me numb, leave than never comeback?
My head spinning in circles..
How does she do this
I should've seen it coming...this woman's bluff I missed
Imma charge her mound
Give all the pitches
Knock her lights out
Flip off all the switches
Protection a must
When you encounter a woman in lust
"Baby oh fuh..."
Shh baby please calm down
You gunna wake the neighbors
If the feeling to good
Let my neck be ya new favorite flavor
She starts to bite as I start to grab
We moving slow to the track
"Baby just like that"
Loving like she the one
What have I become...
Her body produces novacane
Girl, I'm about to go numb
She pulls me in close, continues to ride the beat
I told her "baby not yet"
She replies "you gon remember me"
Toes curling on my feet
Suddenly the moment comes...to an end
She slowly kisses my lips and whispers
"You'll never have this again"
You saved me from the waters rising just above my chin
You looked on the corruption inside me but still you took me in
But I forgot
I forgot how my soul used to sing at the thought of you
I forgot how to breathe without gasping
I forgot how to look at the world without eyes glazed over
I forgot how not to feel that twinge inside me just at the sound of your name
I forgot how to live all while actually feeling alive
I forgot you pulled me out of my shackles
I forgot you responded to my call time and time again
I forgot how to feel like I felt before I got here
I forgot how suffering took away everything good inside me
And I forgot that you love me
I forgot that you are mercy
I forgot that I’m not supposed to be angry
So I’m angry
God, I forgot how not to be afraid.
I forgot how not to be a slave to myself.
I forgot that I shouldn’t want anything else.
I forgot. I forgot. I forget.
So, please, remind me.
But do it gently.
Don’t forget me.
i still think about you a lot.
and i don't know if that's weakness.
you're in the cigarettes i smoke
(when you handed me one after another and told me not to smoke so much)
you're in my car
(where we put the windows down and you flooded your body with medicine)
you're in my mind, and even after everything
(my hands shaking on the wheel)
(telling me how cute i was from my passenger seat)
i can barely remember your mouth or the way it felt
('this shit is fire')
and i know you were a cancer, preying on my softest parts,
(you swaying, eyes half-closed, caught in center of that 'fire')
but i can't kill that cancer i can't
(your arms around me through your haze)
because then i'd have to kill all of it
even the good parts.
you were never one for pet names
you hated when I called you my love
you hated being called anything but your name
but for some reason, you never called me mine
you would only sigh it into my hair
or leave it lingering on my lips
I was always your dear
and now looking back on all the messages and notes
you always called me dear
goodnight, my dear
have a good day dear
I love you dear
did you know I hate being called anything but my name now?
I even hate that
it sounds wrong coming out of other people's mouths
when I should still be hearing it from yours
"Dear Diary" I wrote at the top of the page. I've turned to these wretched pages because I have no one else to turn to.
I have been wanting to runaway for sometime now. I have an estranged sense of nostalgia towards places I haven't even been to.
Did you know that you shattered my heart? That a shard of organ lacerated my ribcage? & so I've concluded...
That perhaps one day, when I'm 22, I will cut my hair short and runaway to new york and try to find a big sweet apple they've always talked about.
I will disregard my birth name and I will end up tell everyone I meet that my name is Aphrodite, but I am not greek nor am I a lover. I'll write poetry. The good poetry and the bad poetry. I'll write poetry the way you left me, blank eyed and confusing. And if I fall in love again, let him be just like you.
Laugh as sentimental as 100yr old harpist.
Smile as transfixing as a dim star, on a moonless night
Eye's as beautiful as the sun..
But just as the sun, I never could stare to long.
I fell asleep as the sun came up
waiting for you to doze off
A little tipsy off of your shape
curled up so peacefully in the dawn.
My face is always flushed and bright red
when your smile, the smile, lights up the night
And I wonder, Good God, when did I ever
get so intoxicated with you, anyway, dear?