~I know this isn't good, just an attempt at flexing a stale muse...~
She was the center of my gravity, my equilibrium; my skein of thoughts revolved around her. A pickup line polished just right in front of a bathroom mirror, and she fell for it, easier than I’d ever dared to dream that she would. We'd share everything together, from playing with barbie doll, picking our first bras, to even beginning our periods in the same month. Now, we fell in love together, exchanging fears that something bad would come of this.
My secret is fatally gorgeous
I'd die for you
But in this Bonnie and Clyde kind of romance
Tell me what would you do?
It was romantic and thrilling in every way that I’d dreamed of. Clandestine meetings between us, where stand huddled together, dripping wet and with mud up to our knees, while the sky cried in delight for us. Then, we’d race home in the dead of night with our hearts thumping in our chest; partly from adrenaline, but mostly because of the way our lips had brushed in parting. I’d stand at the window, waiting to hear her voice rise up to me, and no matter what clichéd love songs the wind brought to me, I knew this was too good to be true.
My secret is fatally gorgeous
I'd die for you
But when your precious life is at stake
Tell me would you die for me too?
Giddy with delight and anticipation, I was all but willing to let the world know our secret on her coke-stained, memory-laden couch in the middle of the living room, when our private rendezvous was interrupted by the sighs of a middle-aged woman weary from a day of hard work. Before we could spring apart, the door was open and there she was, her eyes taking us in with shocked horror and disparagement. Her mouth opened and closed comically as she searched for something appropriate to say, and pointed a trembling finger at me. “You! In my house! In my house!”
In gentle greens we stand side by side
With your head buried in my chest
Black veils send me shivering
The fear that part of me is dying
Cassie clung to me, her curves and mine fitting together so perfectly. “Dike!” She was shaking her fists, the sound of her heels clicking on the hard tile more piercing than the wail of a siren. “My own daughter! You…you bitch!” I couldn’t tell which were Cassie’s tears and which were my own, only that her nails dug into my back, holding me close. Our hearts pounded together in furious rhythm, and for a second I forgot the situation at this incredible intimacy. We were so close that I could feel her hairs against mine, her sobs shaking my body, mine shaking hers. Then, her mother was pulling us apart
Goodbyes are said and roses thrown
And the crowd starts to weep
But the irony of the story is when I fell to my knees
And began clawing at the dirt in front of the tombstone
Of my bashful childhood
I never talked to Cassie again after that. She told my mom, who looked at me with that silent disappointment, shaking her head. Her eyes seemed to say, "Where'd I go wrong with you? Why'd you have to do this to me?" The last time I saw her was as our van pulled away, the U-haul behind it. I pressed my face as close against the glass as I could, as though I could go through it and reach her.
With you by my side, you're screaming at the
Top of your lungs, "let it go"
She was my center of gravity, my equilibrium; my skein of thoughts revolved around her. I first tasted love on Cassie's lips, and never again did it taste as sweet as that. I moved on, but I never forgot her. How can you forget an angel, after all?
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