I remember the first time I kissed him.
We were in the park on a Sunday afternoon. It was late October and we had, luckily, managed to gather a few hours alone, just for us.
If I hadn’t been intoxicated before that day, I certainly was after it. Taken in and mesmerised by those haunting eyes. Completely and utterly hypnotized by… him. Him, him, him.
The days we had together were heady and sweet, desperately passionate and breath-takingly intense. I was… maybe in love. Definitely infatuated. And very, very optimistic, to the point of lovely naivety.
You were always in the background, in the shadows. We had taken so much from you, with no chance of replacement. We gave you nothing. We took like needy children, blithely unaware, sinisterly ignorant.
Once you know the rules, you can never pretend you don’t.
Whenever the sun is too bright, I think of lying in the park and shielding our eyes. He would rest his hand gently on top of mine, and we’d gaze at each other through the shady green air. And that would be our world.
Of course, it all came to an end. I loved him. He broke me. It was a mistake, but even the tiniest crack renders a window useless.
Since then, well… it’s been a long time. Longer than it has been, really. I’ve sat back, and put on those painful old cd’s. And when I hear the songs that inextricably belong to him, I feel lost in a maze of melodies, a maze of notes that trap like gentle arms. I have cried. I have longed. I have reminisced. I have grown.
Remembering always seemed to hurt and soothe in equal quantities. But some days it does neither and that’s the mark of progress.
You’re still around. Honestly, you’ve been admirable [a quality I’ve never managed to display]. I love you, not as I loved him but love is pretty damn good either way.
I am sorry for what you went through as the fallout of my loving. See, love is the gentle, kindly painkiller that hooks you in, the one you die bound to. It’s the lifesaver that turns toxic. And consumes you from within.
When I think of our blatant, loveless hedonism… I’m sorry.
But you know, my friend… if I had the chance to live those days again, to be with him once more and dance on your heart’s grave… I would take that chance in a second. So don’t accept my apology. I was in love.
A contest entry
- PLEASE! Help me get rid of my points! by Shenanigans.
1000 points, ended May 19, 2008, 36 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Show me what wins silver around here by Aussie Gypsy.
550 points, ended August 27, 2008, 24 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Wow. I loved this.
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You do this perfectly, I love the story telling quality of this piece, it has a unique honesty to it, no apologies, it is love, well done and welcome to the finalist list. Best to you
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This is really cool! I love your word choices, very descriptive/evocative. Who is the "You"? Guy-friend? God? innocent Self?
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oh no, i never saw this comment before! sorry!
the "You" in this write is a guy friend of mine, who i kinda screwed over... as you can tell by the story! i felt like i needed to write something like this to him.
thanks heaps for the comment!
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Ohh! It all makes sense now! (And is even that much more awesome!!) Great write, I read it again and loved it twice as much (you notice more the second time around.) Great luck, and I swear I'll judge this soon! (Finals and college... what can you do?)
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i think it a good idea, and i like how you say that he's always in the shadows, and the wonderful use of imagry, but it dosn't really flow for me. I think its your form. I think you should either make it story or poem, but thats just my opinion.
hope you keep work at it, it really has potential to go from a good peice to an amazing peice.
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bec your having problems that your trying to berry...... bad gramma sorry LOL. talkk to you soon i hope.
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