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Spark

I saw you at the top of the slide, almost as if debating whether you could make it to the bottom. I was fifteen, almost sixteen, and you were the dream in the back of my head. A black and white film of endless laughter, stolen kisses, and mornings of nothing but being together with not a single expectation of one another. We never understood each other thoughts; never being mind readers of each other’s intensity towards each other. Yet, you spent hours staring into my emerald eyes, trying to decipher every bit of my mind. You always said my eyes were the weakness in the world you lived in; the center piece to all things you loved.

The grape juice that you spilled on my carpet that night resembled that of a fermented nose bleed. I scrubbed the floor, until only a light time of purple-red remained. Watching you in a long sleeve, white v-neck, as you smeared your face with eyeliner, wiping at the slightest imperfection with your sleeve. At that moment, I was ashamed of you, with your flawless face filled with velvet red lips, and glowing green eyes. You so contradicted my own body with skinned knees and toes.

We ambled on the cracked sidewalks, never caring to notice the passing glares or rare smile. Our love and adoration had never been clandestine. Breaking all the rules to insure you were the cool one, but when I feel behind you waited with no hesitation. You smiled with not lies, and I stared half- heartedly hoping you wouldn’t realize just how clueless I really was. I forced myself to hide my insecurities, and hid away all the evidence that showed how I knew nothing of being in love. You endured my impatience, and never questioned why I was so unsure of what to do. Your own confusion brought its own sense of mystery to our relationship. Never did you raise your voice, when I yelled at nothing. And should a single translucent tear fall, you were there to gently wipe it away, and whisper, “I love you.”

You ended our imperfect relationship. It happened on a Friday night, and I found out Saturday morning. Taking a hot shower, I scrubbed forcefully at my flawed skin, attempting to remove every trace of you. My body burned as I laid in uncompromised nudity under my sheets, and wept until my body fell asleep, plagued with dreams of you.

Weeks later, I had fallen into a new pattern of living: going to school only when necessary and sleeping away the cold November. You called one Friday in December, and the only word I could manage to find a voice for were, “You broke me.” You mumbled a single, “I’m sorry,” before I pulled the plug on the phone.

I tried twice, but I never did tell you because you didn’t seem worthy enough to know. The first was half-hazard. I couldn’t make myself to take enough of those little white pills to end it. Awakening with a vomit crusted mouth, I lugged myself through another day of watching you glance at the new boy.

The second attempt was more careless. I took the whole bottle, and watched m eyes began to blur, as I laid my suicide note on my floor. I felt my heartbeat quicken, until I passed out. Bur the next morning, I awoke to a banging on the door. The lights were painful to my eyes, and my stomach ached with an unforgiving pain. I raised myself from the sheets and forced myself to school once more.


Burning the note in the parking lot, I collapsed in my car and slept the school day away. You banged on my window, with your pasty white hands leaving traces of oils from your finger tips. Opening the door, you slid into my black jeep and sat yourself in the front seat. I watched as you turned yourself around, your hair flying in front of your eyes. You looked worried, with our eyebrows forced together like you did when you were stressed. My hand reached up reflex like, my fingertips reaching to wipe at the spot where your brows pushed together. You quickly turned your heard back towards the windshield. When you turned your head, my heart fell out of my chest, and I gasped in air to catch my breath but nothing helped.

I could tell that you knew better than to say something, the way your mouth was turned down into a grimace. I wasn’t what you wanted anymore; I wasn’t the person you loved any longer. And it killed me inside that you had found someone to replace the place I used to hold by your side. There would be no more stolen kisses or sneaking out at night just to see your smile. That world, the one I had lived in from so long ago, had long since disappeared. My little fairy tale had ended, and that chance in only came once. I couldn’t find anything to live, now that you were gone.

I could do nothing more than stare at your green eyes. They used to glow, and now a dull film had covered them. It tore at my throat, as I tried to mumble the words I knew he didn’t want to hear or believe. I needed him to love me, to know that I loved him in return. But I forced myself to remember that he had already moved onto something new; something fresh. I wasn’t what his heart beat for any more, like I once had been. I was erased.

He held out his hand, and I pushed it away. I knew that my teacher would report me for skipping, and I had no desire to be in trouble. I jumped out of my car and past him, stealing one last glance. He grabbed my arm, and tugged me towards him in one single motion. I was in his arm for a brief second and I could feel every pieced of him against my own body. What seemed to be seconds later, he pushed me away, kissing my mouth fiercely and walked away. Turning back around, he screamed across the parking lot, “Goodbye.”

My hear fell through my chest, and I was numb in every sense. The boy I loved, the one that I would always love, had said goodbye for the last time. The summer sun beat down, and I fell into a heap on the parking lot, begging to be forgotten.

It was all over.





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