I met you | Teen Ink

I met you

November 12, 2014
By EJLyndon SILVER, Oak Harbor, Washington
EJLyndon SILVER, Oak Harbor, Washington
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I met you
Without having a clue about how much I'd want
To watch sappy sci-fi shows in the dim light of the living room,
Doze off under the freckled night sky,
Cry a dark tear-blob on your t-shirt,
And maybe even deteriorate, all with you.

I met you
With my arms tied blindly behind my back,
Naively thinking the idealistic concept of "true love" existed and could happen to me,
With only scratches from past puppy love heart-shakes,
And wading, floating through the blissful mind chemistry of what I knew to be romance
Until something (someone) felt just right.

I met you
And I made myself believe that maybe it would last,
Maybe we could break the odds, shatter the thick mold ossified around us,
Unlike my father and my mother when one broke the other's heart,
Both moving on with only the wrinkled, monochromatic leaves from a withered tree
Caught under their shoes to show for their past; the epilogue and epitaph to their story.

You met me
And I somehow gained your trust
You saw something in me that was worth going for,
Worth the mood swings and the jeerings,
Worth the misunderstandings and the pain that could ensue,
You saw the uniqueness, the "beauty" in me that I often misplaced and abused.

You met me
And you built me up with hopeful effusion,
A devotion unwavering, unconditional, and pure,
You learned my darkest secrets, my deepest insecurities,
The raw quirks, morals, and flaws of the recipe of me,
And with these, how to preserve or spoil me.

You met me
Without taking into account how much words,
Simple constructs visualized or vocalized,
How much every little action after every big mistake
Meant to me and my scratched-up, Teflon psyche
Which can be polished, but rusts with ease.

Even so, we met.
And, as human nature dictates
We eagerly jumped head first into what we figure is the deep end,
And as we take the plunge,
We allow the flow of the water and the sting of the chlorine
Distort our vision, and thus, our distance from the floor.


The author's comments:

Still a work in process, constantly getting edited and re-edited. This particular piece reads much better when spoke aloud.


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