Everyday

The Summer of Bad Decisions

I had another dream about you.
You were dying this time.
A fire had burned out the heart of your home.
You were stuck inside, I couldn't get you out.
Satan's thick tongue made love to your soft flesh.
You resented each mark.
Traced them with your fingers in your hospital bed.
The same fire that smouldered, had also darkened you.
Ebony ash in your eyes..
Each stigma stayed in my mind.
You traced them.
Lingering gently, my own skin seared.
You lusted for a familiar sensation.
My chest collapsed.
You weren't you.

-February, 2016-

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I went on vacation with you.
You slept across from me for a week, and it was like being in a dream being with you everyday.
You were always so nice to me.
I never felt like an outcast around you.
You'd wake up across from me and I'd be in disbelief.
Everyday was spent in disbelief.
Disbelief that some wondrous person like you, some divine creature would even consider habitation with some mere mortal.
Someone like you could smother Aphrodite with just a smirk.
It always astonished me when you'd wake up and have hair all in your face and still manage to look the way you did.
Jesus forbid you wore makeup, it'd kill me.
It's not that you'd look better, it's just that the childish gleam in your eyes would look something more like that of a mature beast, wild, untamed.
It really is scary how beautiful you are.

-Summer, 2015-

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I remember arguing with you, over how to get back to your father's condo.
You have a temper, and stood screaming in the rain.
Like some fire goddess being put out, you flared..
Soaked, water ran into our shoes, over our eyes.
You get upset very easily.
I try to be patient when things get that way, you never mean it.
I let my temper get the best of me, should've kept my mouth shut.
When we finally headed the way you said to go, you calmed down.
The rain let up as we walked in, squeaking our shoes.
Just like that, you were fine again..
It took a couple of hours for my chest to stop burning.

Summer, 2015

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Earlier that year you had slept next to me.
I was at your house.
Layed your head on my chest without a word, and pretended to sleep.
I knew you were awake.
My heart pounded, I didn't move.
So nervous, it made us both uncomfortable.
You rolled over.
I went for your hand, and you gently pulled away.
Yet you moved later that night, and didn't pull away.
You held my hand.
I don't know if it was purposeful.
I just remember wishing it was.
Hoping you were still awake.

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A couple of days later, you snuck into my bed.
You had been sleeping on an air mattress across from me.
I remember smiling at you.
I was petrified.
What are you doing?
You never do this.
Does she know I like her?
What do I do?
Oh hell..
You sat down on my stomach and looked down at me.
Oh hell..
I held your hands.
You looked down at me.
No one spoke.
Oh hell..
You smirked.
Buried your face in my shoulder blades.
My heart pounded.
Oh hell..
You moved off of me.
Climbed in your own bed.
Fell asleep.
For almost an hour, breathing was impossible.
I snuck out the back patio, and caught some summer air.
Caught my breath.
My heart hurt.

Summer, 2015

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After that, I needed some time to think.
The vacation was almost over.
We went to the beach and I swam with you.
Diving in and out the waves.
You didn't want sunburned so I let you get out.
You layed glistening in the shade.
I drifted alone.
Some idiot men started being phallic.
Obscenities were yelled across the water.
I got out.
If only they knew.

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We went to Bush Gardens.
I was afraid.
Wouldn't ride anything.
You made me.
I'm glad you did.
I had fun.

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The last day.
I had to process this.
I went to the condo pool.
Sat in the hot tub.
Played with some kids.
You napped in the living space, a block away.
I decided you were amazing.
This was amazing.
I hoped you thought so too.

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On the ride home you were singing some song I had shown you.
When I showed you something, you usually picked it up.
Smiling next to me.
Voice was rising.
I heard your dad snicker.
I snickered too.
You heard us.
Started crying.
I noticed later you posted something somewhere,
saying this:

I'm sick of these people.
No one cares.
I'm done.

If I could take it back I would.

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But you didn't stay mad.
Hours later, you invited me to your birthday party.
I didn't go.
I wanted to.
I swear I did.
I didn't have the money to.
Your parents had already paid for Bush Gardens.
I wasn't going to ask them.
That hurt you too.

Being poor comes with pride.

I could see it in your eyes.

It hurt you.

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Summer, 2015

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If you ever read this, I apologize.

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