I was an oblivious eighteen year old
obsessed with flower crowns and chocolate chip cookie dough
drinking to remember while others drank to forget.
I was ready for change and embraced anything that didn’t resemble
small towns, closed spaces, and my comfort zone.
You were a taste of spontaneity, caramel candy drops, and daisies
in a never ending field of possibilities. Five minutes with you
soon brought me more excitement than friendship bracelets and SpongeBob shaped mac and cheese.
You were everything
but predictable. That first night alone,
candles burning all around us,
you touched me
without using your hands. I’d never felt anything
like the invisible ink you used to write all over me,
covering every crease and crevice without even trying.
Being a naïve, barely legal girl I fell
for what I thought would forever be my favorite one night stand
that instead turned into almost every night as the hot summer air turned to chilly afternoons
with colorful leaves falling around us.
Looking up at the stars I thought I’d never have to be alone in the darkness again until
the invisible ink started to transform
into bruises from too much Bacardi and scars
from the flames you used to light those candles
the night you first said I love you.
I’ll never be able to forget the soft sound of your breathing
as I lied there
uncovered,
unsure
of what those nights meant
to me, to you
for us.