He was the special kind of boy
The type of boy where it was dangerous to say goodnight to him
Because when you woke up
You'd immediately want to say good morning too
He was refreshing in a desert of repetition
His was a mind I could pick apart so as not to look into mine
He was good
For a while
And then he decided to try his hand at chemistry
At mixing this and that and creating pretty plumes of smoke to distract me from the bubbling green acid it was coming from
By then he had decided I was sick and he was the only one able to make a cure
And perhaps I was
Perhaps I wasn't
All I know is that his first cure left an acrid taste in my mouth and turned the butterflies into a twisted knot in my stomach
His second cure made my heart beat faster and the hairs at the nape of my neck stand at alert, constantly wondering what I needed to fix
His third cure turned out to be poison
But his was a poison I had not drank before
So when he offered it to me in a golden cup, smelling of sweet nothings and promises for the future, I drank like a man in the desert
It was not until the poison had wrapped its thorns around my mind and infected my heart, had I realized it was fatal
But by then it was too late
Too late to talk to my family on why I couldn't leave my bed
Too late to tell my friends that I didn't mean to ignore them
Too late
So like a deer to a lion, I succumbed to the poison and let it consume me for 3 years
3 treacherous years of wading in the shallow waters of my own insecurities and his poison, always swimming but never reaching shore
It wasn't until the end of those three years did I realize that I was drowning because I kept swallowing the water
So I woke up one morning, still trying to get to shore, and decided that today I would not swallow water
I would not let more of its inky darkness into my soul, and I would cough and spit and tear out what was already in me
Bit by bit
I got it out
Suddenly it was easier to swim, and the sun was out and I could see the murky waters I was swimming in
They were not clear yet but they were getting there
Reinvigorated I swam harder
I pushed myself until my lungs were screaming for air and my eyes burned
But still I swam
Until my palms met golden sand and my knees scraped against smooth rocks
It had taken me some time but I was free
7 years and I was free of his touch
And his memory had faded enough that I could ignore the rest
YOU ARE READING
Lost In My Head
Poetry"This is something that I hope no one will ever see, because this one thing..... Just this once, I wish to treasure for only me" ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ A book of poetry and prose, and the general musings of my fucked up mind
