The First Time

The only thing that I can say about this is that it's more poem than story, and that I wrote it in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep (like all of my short stories to be honest). Just know that the left justification is one pov and the right justification is another, and you should be good. I've also been sitting on this for over a year because I couldn't figure out how to post it, decided to copy and paste, and it worked. -cue livid keyboard smash-

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The first time I saw her,

The first time I saw him,

She wore a ratty t-shirt and torn jeans far too big for her body.

Her hair was greasy and pulled back into a ratty bun.

Her eyes were clouded over.

I was in a dark place.

I was living my best life.

I had just gotten the promotion I wanted,

I had the best girlfriend I could have ever wanted,

I had a home I could call my own.

The first time that I met him,

The first time that I met her,

I was on my way to kill myself.

I bumped into her at the train station.

I had knocked her down as I ran to make my train.

I was going to jump into the ocean and never come out.

It was Valentine's Day, and I was late to a home cooked dinner.

I had flowers in my hands, a dozen red roses.

I dropped the flowers and helped her up.

The first time that we spoke,

She was frail and looked like she was about to shatter at any moment.

Was an apology.

She looked like she would rather gouge her own eyes out than have me touch her.

It was the first I had ever received from a man.

It was strange, after that.

He helped me to a seat,

And he stood in front of me as if he were to protect me.

She looked like a lost puppy, so frail and scared, yet so full of life and potential.

He asked me where I was going.

The need to protect her was overwhelming.

I told him I was going home.

I asked to walk her.

I told him no.

We were silent after that.

We were silent, but I wished we weren't.

~~~~~~~~~~

He followed me.

I was careful.