The Poet Finally Drops the Bullshit
I am 15 and he is my first boyfriend. He is 18 and 6'4" and his hands are the size of thick textbooks. He says he has a lot to teach me. He is drowning in his own sadness. Drowning people often believe that if they grab hold of someone else they can be saved, but it just makes you both sink faster.
I am 17 and she is my first girlfriend. The only thing we do more than fight is fuck. I tell her about the boy's hands and she tries to stretch her fingers wide to mimic them. I say, Stop it. I say, I love you as you are.
I am 19 and in the first of many dirty rooms with books strewn everywhere and a mattress in one corner. These rooms always belong to boys with unshaved faces and tender hearts. Boys like this are a dime a dozen, but I don't know that yet because tonight I'm with the first one. He hands me a beer. He says he thinks I'm smart. He orders me to take off my clothes.
I am 20 and in love with someone who lies. The punishment for telling lies is being cruel. The punishment for being cruel is being abandoned.
Radics
D.
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