"I remember meeting him in high school with his
dyed hair and
band shirts.
My mother told me that
boys like him were
'evil' and would mess me up.
But, see, she never really opened up to people but
I don't blame her because
I can hardly talk to
anyone since I lost
him.
Anyways, he wasn't
michevious as everyone thought he was.
Hell, he wouldn't even hurt a
fly (maybe tease it lovingly but never intentionally hurt.)
I remember the way it
hurt when I fell in love with him.
I remember the way my stomach would tighten and the
beat in my chest became off.
I remember talking to myself three months after it
happened and feeling like he was
talking back.
Like he never left.
Because I'd ask a question and the cold December wind would
cause goosebumps on my pale skin and
my stomach would tighten and
my heart beat would become off and I felt
him holding my waist and his
head on my shoulder as he told me it was okay
and that I had to find someone who loved me but what he
didn't understand was no one could make me feel more alive
than his cold body."
