literature

1979

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awkwardxmoments's avatar
Published:
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Literature Text


He was the cool kid. You know the one, the boy on the corner with the messy hair, the kid you could trust to do nothing and always be there for you.

He was that sweet kid, the one who threw love notes across the room to you in sixth grade. They hurt like hell because he folded them in those compact little paper squares, but the secretive hints in his handwriting made up for the red marks lingering on your arm. He even wrote your name on his palm in Sharpie, and when he got bored in class and leaned his head on it, you were tattooed backwards to his face. He laughed, because everyone would ask what NEB meant, and you laughed too.

He was the pretty kid, who got beat up and fell back on you outside Cinema 18, and you went home and bandaged his face until he was a mummy, and then you both went outside and ran around your neighborhood pretending it was Halloween. The boy you played strip poker with in 9th grade, except you were both blindfolded with bandanas, so the cards were forgotten fast. And how his sister almost screamed when she saw you kissing on the shag rug. Coming out was hard, but you laughed it off because you could.

He was your soul mate, who you had proposed to at 8, as long as he would be the wife. It was right, because no one hung around by those ancient swings anyway, and you were both so small you could fit on one and talk forever about everything. You talked all the time, reciting books for each other because sometimes the pages made better conversation than he did. And after you ran out of things to say, you still talked until the morning even though you never opened your mouths.

He was your maker and your breaker. You were sure he hadn’t just smashed your heart that time he was all over Xander Mason. Your everything was detached and you tried your best not to cry, because that wasn’t what he’d taught you. So you laughed for hours, because that whole thing was stupid and he’d see you in the morning. You spent all night chuckling into your pillow when you felt cold.

And you never stopped feeling it. The time you saw him again, at the same street corner he’d given you that sad placid carnation and you’d smiled all night because of the thought. But this time he wasn’t waiting for you, so you just kept walking.

His eyes watched you the whole way, but you didn’t have anything left to say after all.
and we don't know just where our bones will rest
to dust i guess
© 2005 - 2024 awkwardxmoments
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kampasi's avatar
That's so sad. =( Wow. That's... Wow. Awesome job.