I kissed a boy,
whom I gave my heart to

I kissed a boy,
who played with my heart,
with no intention on returning it

I kissed a boy,
who thought my heart was just another everyday object
and threw it down the gutter
when he realised
he had no use of it anymore

I kissed a boy,
who threw my heart down the gutter
because it stopped beating for him
who tore me apart
drowned my lungs out with black blood
and suffocated me with the hatred
he enveloped around himself
simply because he couldn't stand the sight of himself in the mirror


I kissed a boy,
and he planted demons in my head,
egged on the voices who told me I was not worth it,
telling me daily that I was useless and a waste of space,
deafening my silent mind with their dark words,
eventually helping his hatred
consume me too
and killed me off inside
just like he had murdered himself

I kissed a boy,
and he killed slowly with the anger and self-loathing inside of him

As the bus approached the stop
next to the library
I knew.
The sight of you
standing there
was not a surprise.
Pleasantly, you entered,
toting your instruments like a back pack.
Your weight made the seat
creak, when you sat down
--right in front of us.
For a brief second,
your heart was spared
and then,
out of the corner of your eye
an orange hoodie
dark shaggy hair
and me.
This must be what doctors see
when they tell families their
loved ones have passed;
a pain catching the eyes
making them blink while open.
I selfishly expected
you to understand
as your mouth cried quietly
“he had his chance!”
I wanted to run after you
when you gathered
your
             …things
and got off the bus.
Instead, I watched you walk away
downward face
wasting your last few dollars,
leaving your young heart back
inside our potluck pumpkin pie.
How cruel unmet needs use people.
Your face
that day
hurts me still.
Later that weekend,
he
said to me,
"It’s funny, how I can look at you now
and not get turned on."