I’m sorry if this post is a little soppy, it’s about a relationship I was in last year that really got to me. This is me trying to take all of that and turn it into something. It become a sort of narrative poem. somewhere between a blog-post, a short story and a poem.
I swear he was standing there, moving with the bass of some club song. In between the smoke, flashes, lights, I was caught by him. There was something about him, I turned to a friend and called that boy beautiful, because he wasn’t like the others.
He slid his arm over me in the bed, pulling me closer. Maybe it was a cold night, maybe he’d been waiting to do that for a while. Turning around my heart was so fast, unbearably quick… You know I haven’t felt that since. Quickening as our lips crossed a chasm of possibility into something that was exquisite.
I remember how he trembled in the car, parked in a strange place, because he had to ask me something. His words stumbled and cracked, he wanted me, I agreed. We tumbled into an avalanche of memories that seemed so picturesque.
It was a good story, a journey. The places we went, clear oceans crashing against rocks, faces lit in the flickers of candle light, whispered nights next to each other as we secretly held hands. How did I not realise it was a dream? That I was just enraptured in some scenic story.
Scratched out roughly all of a sudden, as if the ideas had dried up, they had hit a wall, Chaos, darkness, trouble. He fades out like a spectre, like some fantasy I dreamt up, some fiction I wrote while the real him wasn’t there… The words were being read back and they didn’t make sense. It wasn’t beautiful any more.
It was as if the love was being sucked out in reverse, the places went cold, the faces were strange and the boy was faded. Back in the car… This time I’m the one trembling. More than that, I’m cracking, breaking. Staring back at me is someone who looks just like him, except this boy doesn’t love me.
When I look at you now I don’t see that boy, you’re not him. He’s gone, transitioned from this world and now his big eyes, the way he smiled after a kiss, his embrace exist only in bitter-sweet memories…
A memory. Lying with you in the soft morning light, smiling, kissing, the world doesn’t matter. A flash, all I have is a picture of me, framed by ethereal morning glow, smiling at a boy that doesn’t exist.