My days were long, but insignificant. Assignments stacked like skyscrapers, and time was running out. But there was always time for him.
Each night, he would ask if I was ready for a ride, and each time I'd respond a grateful yes. This marked the beginning of my time with Mister Midnight.
As soon as the sun fell beneath the horizon, he would be waiting for me in the lot, ready to whisk me away on an adventure. We would start by determining the destination. Then came the music, the queue essential to setting the tone of our conversation. Topics ranged from favorite foods to deepest fears, but we never ran out of things to discuss.
For hours at a time, the drives became became our stolen moments from the judging eyes of campus life, our friendship hidden from society. Our goal was to escape the questions, and revealing the truth wasn't worth the risk of losing the balance we'd found between our statuses and secrets. Our escapades allowed us both to reveal our inner workings to someone who knew the pain that came with hiding behind a mask. It was in these late nights that we developed a bond that could never be broken.
At least that's what we thought before it all changed... before time finally caught up to us... before the night turned to dawn...
YOU ARE READING
What I Once Called Love: The Drafts
PoetryThis is my story, or rather a compilation of stories that spans more than a decade. Each piece is written from a place of truth with the exception of the names mentioned. The book itself will broken into sections, with each representing a different...
