August 24, 2009
By KryptoniteKris BRONZE, Ottawa, Other
KryptoniteKris BRONZE, Ottawa, Other
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments


There was that blond hair falling over his blue eyes. The sun kissed nose. Frowning. Bent over his notebook. Writing furiously away. Then he stopped. Sat back. His friends said something. Someone talked to me too. What was Ashley telling me?
He was getting up. Towards me he walked. He asked the question. Can he hear my heart racing? God I hope not. Yes. Oh my god yes. YES! Never been so attracted to someone before. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Wonderful. Mine.
Let him take me for a ride. I talk. He talks. Hands touch once. His laughter rippling thru my body.
I tell him my secrets. He tells me his. My friends ask me how it went. I lie. Why? I lie and tell him it wouldn’t work.
The obligation of boyfriend girlfriends. Because that is a label. Nothing but a label. He was more then a label.
He’s right for the other reasons.
There was something about the way he does things. It doesn’t make me love him. It makes me want him. And I have him. My last gift given without regret. And the more I have him the more I need him. Because he crawls under my skin. Makes me shake with life. When he’s beside me. My heart speeds up. Once. Twice. Three times faster then normal.
And when we pass in the hallways. No one knows. Why I wear a secret smile. And why when he’s near I lean towards him. No one. My body just does. My mind just knows. We both just know.
Later. Sunset. The last rays of the sun sending everything in to a world of sparkling half shadows. He stands beside me watching the sun go down. I thought. God I thought often the same question: was this really possible. Was he really there? He was. Skin touching mine. He’s gentle and rough. Balance.
Sometimes it feels like forever before we see each other again. His girlfriend. My boyfriend. Excuses. Obstacles, though it seems cruel to entitle them as that. I don’t call it cheating. My blue eyed angel is part of me. We’re a package deal just no one knows it. So when we’re together it’s rare anything else matters.
We move together. Arms. Legs. Lips. Like playing twister. We’re all tangled together. And then time will slow. All seems worth the wait. All seems worth the days. To feel his lips. To feel his hands. Exploring new places. No secrets. No boundaries.
The first time was always so vivid. We remember pain in our minds first. And then we remember happiness. It was both. And that is why it’s the memory. We were both so shy. So unsure. But it was like instinct.
The way two people move together, it is the greatest art of all.
Our kisses are deep but never soul searching. Because we don’t have to search another’s soul. We already know them.
We got creative. No more hotels on 301 Bank. Little chances we got. Ski trips. Spring break. Parties. Endless parties.
Three years of bliss. Together no matter what. The days the girls could have him.
Because every girl wanted him. He was the secretive type. With the blue eyes that pierced your heart.
An Angel. Someone to hold on to when all else fell apart.
Someone to hold me when I cried. When I couldn’t take it anymore.
But I always came to the simple question.
Do I love him?
Though the question might be simple, it was hard to answer. Impossible.
Love. Lust. Adore. Envy.
Wanting. Having. Knowing. Discovering.
I’m his. He’s mine.
Part of me wanting to have him forever and always. Part of me knowing I can’t. Part of me screaming for him to kiss me. Part of me screaming for him to say: I love you.
But he never said it. I never knew. I never said it. I would never know. How I felt. What I should say. If I should say.
It seemed it would go on forever. Time meant nothing. Time was irrelevant. Time went quickly. Time went slowly. We grew up together. It was more evident when we were together. When we knew that we’d changed so much.
He never said but I think he wanted to. If he said those three little words...
What would I say?
I Love you.
University appeared all of a sudden. The forms resting before me on the countertop. I filled them out. So did he. More choices came. Where would I go next? A new world awaited but could I brave it without an angel?
We had one more time. One last. One kiss. One more touch. Our last goodbye. Tears. I cried an ocean that dark night. There was no sound but his breathing. His gentle whispers. The power lines crashed down. The candles flickering behind windows. We stayed in the dark but I could see him. My angel. Blue eyes sad and wet with salty tears.
I went east. He went west. That was the end.
There were never fireworks when we kissed. There were just flames. Burning. Ravaging flames. That tore everything apart. That ripped my heart to shreds.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. Not leave. But I was pushed on to the plane. Seat belt buckled.
I was gone. He was gone. Across a country. Miles.
Impossible to forget even with the months.
He was always and forever. Forever and always.
My blue eyed angel.


I watched her from a distance. The way she walked especially. With a little spring in her step. Her hips moving gently. She was dancing to her own music. She was a dancer. Moving like fire across a stage. Black hair. Green, deep green, emerald green eyes. Never a pencil. Always a pen. Hated science. Hated math. Loved to dance and laugh. A secret.
My friends teasing me about some Britney or some Ashley. I didn’t care. Her. She was the one I wanted right now. She’s the one I wanted bad. Whipped? Maybe. Probably. Yes.
It was a simple question. She said yes. Yes. I took her for a ride in my dad’s new car. She didn’t seem to care about the car. She talked. I talked. She told me a secret. I told her another. Until it seemed both our lives were laid out in front of us. Soul’s open for observation. She touched my hand softly. And then gave me a hug. She smells like vanilla and roses.
I lie to my friends. She lies to hers. We’re just friends. Just a girl and a guy. But behind closed doors I’m the guy that loves her. Love, such a strong word. I’d never thought of using it till I was 30 some.
There was something about her that pulled me in. Like a fish drawn to bait. I was hooked. Hers to take. Hers to let go. My green eyed goddess. She was mine. I was entirely hers.
Then there is something about the first time. She was wearing blue. I remember how the material of her clothes felt as it slipped over her soft skin. The way she smiled shyly. The way her eyes look determined. I thought I’d be embarrassed. Not sure what to do but it seems so natural. We were both new to this. Birds learning to fly. One touch. One kiss. One moment.
The world stopping all of a sudden. Sunrise to sunset. The clock marked 11. Now it says 3. We fly. Time flies. “Let’s fly.” I’d whisper to her when she fell in to a sleep. Close to me. Warm and safe. She came around to my house. My home. My mother answering the door. Could I have been doing anything better? Instead I was baking cookies. Cookies?! I never forgave mom for that. I ran upstairs. God I ran.
Shoving things under my bed. She changed me. And I knew it was for the good. The line of girls stopped. None seemed to hold any special flare after I’d met the goddess, my green eyed goddess.
It wasn’t always a joy. We fought and fought and fought. The screams ripping away at each other’s pride. At the paint of my blue walls. Of the red of hers. She’d hold her tears. She didn’t want to cry. But I did with out shame. Holding back no lies. No humiliation. She could see all of me like I saw all of her.
Her hair got longer. Thick and black. A year passed. Summer tans. Summer skin. Sticky and hot. Tank tops and short shorts. So many names for clothes. She teased me about attempting to understand the world of women.
“You want to get more girls?” She asked. I smiled. I wanted her.
Fireflies come out at night. The night was ours. Guys could come up to her. Tease. Flirt. Whatever. The sun sets and she’s there.
School. Dull. Ever long.
Her birthday. My birthday. A memory. Valentine’s day. Over rated. Over thought.
But still…candles flickering. Flames dancing for her.
Winds carrying her smell. Vanilla and roses.
The smell stuck to the pillows and sheets of my bed. Clinging to them for a long while as she left for a long month trip. To Europe. My goddess in Europe. A post card for every day.
And suddenly there had past two years.
Three years.
12th grade. Decision time. Prom time. Graduation time.
Where will I go? Where will she?
South? North? East? West?
College apps. Scholarships. Forms.
Date of birth:
Graduated from:
There were never any questions about yourself.
Had I ever loved? As close as we can get being young. Being fickle. Being alive.
Yes I had loved. Whipped? Yes.
She went east. To NYC. With Starbucks in the morning and cabs to parties I would never see.
I go south west. To California. To summer tans and clear blue waters. To blond girls with light eyes. No beautiful green.
Fingers touching one last time. Lips pressing together one last time. That’s all we had. One moment. One day. One night. One more chance.
Time went slow. The clock went out. The lights all over town. Down. Crashed. Dark completely no need for flashlights. A little haven just for us.
Tears. Salt. Bittersweet.
Memorising every part of her, even though I already knew it so well.
She was never just some girl. She was never just an artist’s muse. A writer’s inspiration. She was always something more and so she shall for all of time. My memory.
And now I fly, the plane large and white, over green fields. The green, nothing compared to the eyes of my emerald eyed goddess.

The author's comments:
It was the first time I really wrote about a relationship between two people using both people to explain it. It was also a different style of writing. I used short sentences becaue it felt more like thoughts.

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