Virgin Moon Phases

Baby Blue (Prose)

You were only eleven, probably. And I was probably twelve. I don't remember. Well we spanned over more than school years and ages. We... Yeah we spanned, together, and we were best friends.
I was always scrawny before puberty, you weren't, you were perfect like always. I was underdeveloped and so happy about not knowing. You were blonde, I, brunette, light and dark, opposite, and just as affectionate as the reflection of a young child, grooming herself in the mirror.
We grew, it was middle school, a beehive of hormones, and children not quite small, or large. You filled out your hips, like your mother's, and I became my own mother as well, beautiful but soft fleshed. I remember when I gave you your nickname; I was silly enough to switch the b into a d. It stuck, oh it stuck, much longer than you did....
I remember once you told me you felt bad for eating meat because animals had feelings. I told you not to think about it, of course I'm a sensitive soul as well, but you later came to me, saying that you read about some research saying that plants have feelings too. I told you, shhh, just don't think about it...
I don't really know how to recall these things, because they happened so long ago; I wish I'd have put these feelings in a lock box. I wish I'd have put you in some handcuffs... But that's not who you are, you are so free. Your hair is like spun gold, I've told you this. You were soft spoken, and when we went into high school, I learned that you were adopted. You didn't tell me, but you said it was never a secret. I didn't learn it first though, and I didn't hear it from you.
You were beautiful like an angel. You are beautiful like an angel, but I loved you like hell. So now it burns. You are so far away from me...
Only some months ago you sparked a fire with a boy, and it's spread like blood-- you know how blood drips, right? It's so fast and all of the sudden it's on your clothes, and the floor, everywhere else, but it was just a cut...
I know we loved like melting butter. The kind of warm friendship that only lacked in lust. That boy, he brought it, and he told me he would, I would've warned you if I knew...
We had a past too. If it could be called a past, if it had a start or it had an end. I was lonely too, and that's how I'll put it, but he is too proud to have room for any shame. Because if he did, it would be me.
I do not pity you, he said, I feel sympathy. It's different.
All you want is pity. He said. Go be sad on your own.
He asked me for my body, and when I asked him what he was doing to yours, he said, oh no, she means more than that to me.
A boy can ring me out like a worn rag, and I know better than to tell anyone about it...
I hope he learned that you can stretch someone's fibers thin if you play with them like that. You can't just use a pen and leave the top off, then expect it to function fine. And I know, because I don't want him to use you, to leave you right where you're standing, and then drop the paintbrush, convince you that you've run dry when you are still so full of that lovely, baby blue color.
I want to believe he won't. And I know he has good in him, for you and for me, but I love you more than my trust for anyone. I suppose that's not saying much.
He says he knows you, he knows what you want, did you tell him? Does he know what you want? Because then I know that you want nothing to to with me.
Could you just look into my eyes, could you? And if you were here right now you would look right through me. You are so, so pretty. I miss the way you look in the light of your home, because I loved visiting you there. I loved sleeping in the living room, and talking about Harry Potter and band boys, and one time, we played with Littlest Pet Shop animals, late, late at night.
I know you. You know me, you're just a little confused. I mean, I know I didn't really seem like the most sane person in the world when you came to visit me in my little room in the mental hospital. I know I was a messy, bleach blonde, piece of trash cut into ribbons that they tried to fix in the ER. But I couldn't have been happier to see you. I know I look like the junkie friend out of our group, but I've cleaned up my act, I swear I was never a bad person. I never stopped caring about you. I got all my information second hand, I know that's not what good friends do. But it was the best I could do.
So I want to ask you, was this the best you can do? Do you ever ask about me? If we are face to face right now, I should probably say, I know you are looking right through me. They always are. But I followed their gaze and only ended up behind them. People are easily distracted, I don't claim to be an exception.
I wish I could hug you. You mean the world to me.