somebody else, and they are still lurking, in the back of your
mind.
day fifteen: the bathroom tiles are swirling just like the toilet
as you flush it again and again. you spend the day at the doctor
and when you finally see him that night, he holds you even
when you warn him that you’re sick. “i was in a bad mood all
day,” he tells you, “and now i’m not. how strange is that?” you
laugh and he tells you he loves you again. “i love you too,”
you reply, and for a few minutes, you forget.
day sixteen: “why won’t you just kiss me?” he grabs your
hands and pulls you close to him. “because,” you say simply,
“i should be in love with him.” he runs his fingers through his
hair, “but you’re not anymore.” you shake your head, “it’s
never that easy.”
day seventeen: “i’ve never met someone like you before,” he
confesses. he runs his hand up and down your spine and you
whisper sweet nothings in his ear. part of you wishes you don’t
mean it when you tell him you never want to leave, but all of
you knows you do.
day eighteen: he is growing more and more upset as you get
closer and closer to leaving. you write a poem about him in
your journal, and he wants to see it but you tell him he’ll see it
later. “maybe i’ll mail it to you,” you joke, but he only looks
sadder.
day nineteen: he asks, “we’re going to be okay, yeah?” and
you kiss his hand. “of course, angel,” you say, “we’ll be great,
even.” you say that you love him and he glows.
day twenty: when you kiss him, he freezes. he didn’t see it
coming. his hands rest delicately on your waist and for a few
seconds there is nothing but him. he holds you afterwards and
you can feel his smile against your neck. that night, he tells
you how much he loves you a thousand times over. your heart
cracks, not because you shouldn’t love him, but because you
do and time is up.
day twenty-one: you kiss him, hard, and cry into his shirt. you
try to memorize the way his hands feel in yours, the way his
lips feel against your skin. “we’ll be okay,” he mumbles into
your hair, but his voice shakes and he is unsure. you are too.
when you drive away, he watches and you start to cry again. “i
love him,” you sob, “i love him.” you repeat it to yourself on
the way home. but this time, you are talking about a different
person.
-c.h.
conclusive
you ask
is the reason
you're so sad nowadays
because of me
i say
of course not
but i can feel the lie
licking at the back of my teeth
you ask
then why do you look
like you’re about to cry
whenever you glance my way
i say
i don’t know what
you’re talking about
and i try to hide
that the tears are there
even now
you say
i may be pathetic
but i’ve never been blind
i look away and i confess
i don’t think
we were ever meant
to fall in love
you stop speaking
and for a few minutes
we just sit
you smoke a cigarette
and i bite my nails
then you say
if we were never
meant to fall in love
then why did we
i don’t have
an answer for this
but you take my silence
as one and let the smoke
float around us before you
speak again
i think we were meant
to fall in love but maybe
we weren’t meant to fall
in love for forever
i say
this is heartbreaking
you say
well at least now
we know why it is
-c.h.
this is rape culture
she is 4. her cousin molests her and she is too young to do anything. she doesn't even know what's happening. when she tells people, later, they don't believe her.
they say, “why didn't you speak out about it sooner?”
fight back vomit. scream. she was a child.
she is 5. her step sister gropes her, uses her as a play thing. she doesn't process what happened until years later. she tells her dad.
he says he doesn't believe her. says it isn't possible.
swallow. ignore the rising bile. she shouldn't have waited this long.
she is 6. her babysitter tells her they're going to play a game. slides her hand over her crotch. “i don't want to play,” she says. “then you’ll get in trouble,” the babysitter replies, moves her hand closer.
her parents ask her why she would want to ruin somebody’s life. she wants to ask why they would let somebody ruin hers.
breathe. force down the words. she must have misunderstood.
he is 7. his uncle tells him to watch as he touches himself, tells him to touch himself too. when he finally figures out what happened, years later, his uncle is gone.
so he swallows it down. it doesn't matter now.
she is 9. her cousin pulls his pants down and begs her to touch him. rubs his hand on her through her underwear. his parents walk in on it.
they say, “boys will be boys. it's just what they do at this age.”
choke it back. accept it. this is natural.
she is 10. her stepdad takes advantage of her. she is so scared to say anything that she doesn't. she finally works up the courage to speak. points at the places on the doll. the cops don't press charges.
they say, “it's a ‘he said, she said’ thing. sorry.”
swallow. tremble. but why should they believe a child.
she is 12. she keeps telling herself it isn't happening. but it is, and he keeps doing it. she thinks she can trust him to not do it again. she's wrong. so she tells her mom.
she says, “you should've done something. you shouldn't have just frozen in place.”
sob. pound the wall. she was too scared to do anything else.
she is 12. he takes her innocence, all of it. again and again. she sits, wide-eyed with trauma. she needs somebody to be there for her. it doesn't stop for three years.
they say, “you should've enjoyed the action.”
they say, “you should learn from it.”
swallow. see red. she was asking for too much.
she is 12. her best friend gropes her and doesn't stop. he won't listen. she tells her friends, hopes that they will understand. but they don't.
they say, “at least this means you're pretty.”
they say, “this is just how boys are.”
scream. swallow. at least she’s desirable.
he is 14. he is gagged. his family member touches him and he can't scream. pushes his way inside. he can't scream for help. when he asks for it later, they don't understand.
they say, “it can't hurt that badly.”
bite back the screams. sob. they won't get it, so they don't care.
she is 15. her boyfriend slips his fingers into her body. she tells him it hurts and he laughs. he keeps going. she stays with him because she doesn't know what else to do.
they say, “well why didn't you just leave him?”
swallow. choke. she should’ve just ran.
she is 15. her stepbrother rapes he
r, takes her for himself. when she tells the school, he is kicked off the football team for a week. he still walks free and she is permanently chained to a memory she never asked for.
swallow. swallow. she doesn't matter.
she is 15. a football player offers to walk her to class. he pulls her around the corner and gropes her, pins her against the wall so she can't move. she goes to administration and they try to give her a detention because she went with him. he didn't get anything.
swallow. sob. she's the problem.
she is 16. he is 23. he gets her drunk and traps her against the wall, blocks out her protests with his mouth on hers and a hand up her dress. he takes what he wants.
they say, “that's why you don't drink.”
they say, “if it really happened, she wouldn't tell anybody. it's too embarrassing.”
swallow. chew on words. she's at fault for this.
he is 16. his boyfriend holds him down and masturbates on to him. “i know you want it,” he growls. says he has to win him back, tears away his clothes. he threatens to scream, and the boyfriend tells him he never wanted him back, just wanted to see how far he could get him to go.
they say, “you were being a bad boyfriend.”
they say, “we don't believe you,” and they leave.
dry heave. hit the wall. why is he surprised.
she is 17. she is drunk. she tells him she wants to go to bed. “okay, then go to bed,” he says, and slides his fingers into her anyway.
they say, “he's such a cool guy, though. you probably did something that made him think it was okay.”
choke on the air. swallow. she should've just kept her mouth shut.
i am 18. i can still feel his hands on my chest. his prints are branded into my skin. i don't like to look in the mirror anymore. i want to scream.
but i know what they say.
swallow. swallow. choke.
i know what they say.
so i don't say anything at all.
-c.h.
the boys i've loved and the end of the world #4
“it’s going to consume the earth. a giant light ball, and it’s
going to swallow the earth whole.”
we are walking, in his town, a town i’ve never been to until
now. our arms swing side by side, sometimes brushing, and the
sun is beaming calmly down on us. “i still find it hard to
believe that the sun shining on us now, is the same sun that will
kill everyone and obliterate the planet in three days,” i say with
a slight laugh.
“i still find it hard to believe that i’ll never get a chance to
marry you,” he responds, and i hit his arm, but i am laughing
and so is he.
“maybe in heaven, you will,” i giggle, and he rolls his eyes.
“please, we both know it’s not real,” he scoffs, but he looks at
me and his eyes are scared. i know, that if i could see mine in a
mirror, they would be, too. he grabs my arm, stopping us. “tell
me, was it always the distance that pushed you away?”
i nod, and my chest feels heavy. “of course it was. it’s always
distance, isn’t it?” i sigh, knowing that every promise i made to
him, won’t matter in three days’ time. “i wish it hadn’t been
there.”
he draws me closer, wraps his arms around me, and i let him. i
will never feel them again after today. “i wanted to give you
the world,” he whispers, “ever since i first saw you, i wanted to
give you everything i had. you were it for me.”
i bury my face into his chest and say nothing. but he knows i
feel the same. he’s always known, and he’ll go to his death
knowing it, crumbled to ash by the broken sun.
“i hope he knows how lucky he is to be loved by you,” he
murmurs into my hair, “i hope he knows that he’s holding a
star brighter than the sun in his arms.”
i am crying now, and i clutch his jacket tight. “i have never
been more sorry about anything,” i confess, “there is nothing
that hurts more than knowing we will never get a chance.”
“if heaven is real, please promise you will find me there.” he
cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him.
“i promise. i promise, i promise, i promise.”
with a sigh, he presses his lips to my forehead. “good. i cannot
bear the distance any longer.”
-c.h
the aftermath
people say it's possible
to die from a broken heart.
before you,
i didn't believe it.
but then you left.
and suddenly,
i couldn't breathe.
i found myself
sitting in the shower,
choking on boiling water
and watching my skin
blister red.
suddenly,
there was a gaping
hole in my chest.
i would find myself
hunched over the toilet
and heaving up what
little food i could manage
to eat.
there were days
where i could hardly
manage to get out of bed.
when my limbs would shake
and i would have to think
about each step before
i took it.
i still don't believe
that it's possible to die
from a broken heart.
but i know now
that it's possible to feel
like you are.
-c.h.
this is why you hold on
she's dug her grave, she's written her will,
her eyes are closed, she's swallowed the pills.
she's scribbled her note, she's said goodbye,
she's very certain, she wants to die.
she's in the hospital, her stomach is pumped,
she's laying in the bed, a sad sick lump.
her hair is knotted, her words are few,
her parents are crying, nobody knew.
she's grown up now, her wounds are healed,
her eyes are bright, her smile is real.
she lights up with laughter, she's glad she stayed,
she's ever so grateful, she lived another day.
-c.h.
resolve
i will never understand
why everything could never
be enough for you.
i tried to give
you all i had.
i thought i did.
now that it's over
and it no longer
hurts, all i am
able to say is
that i want you
to be happy, though
i know you won't.
you will always be
searching for something more.
perhaps at some point,
you will realize that
with me, you had
it all. all that
you had ever wanted.
i doubt it will
come to that, and
i know all you
wanted was true love.
i'm sorry you didn't
think i could give
you that. i promise
that i tried to.
this is my goodbye.
you will always be
in my heart, darling.
one day, we may
meet, and try again.
one day, you may
realize that you still
miss me, and you
will finally know why.
i want all this.
but most of all,
one day, i hope
that you will have
found what it is
that you're looking for.
-c.h.
thought process
i think
that maybe
i was in love
with you
but i didn't
want to be
i think
that maybe
you deserved
someone who
didn't always look
away when you smiled
in their direction
i think
that maybe
i drove you
away from me
not because
i was too much
but because
i was too little
i think
i fucking
ruined us
i think
i am a
disaster
i think
i am hard
to love
i think
i know
why we fell
apart and
i think
i know
that it was me
i think
i'm not making
excuses for why
you left
because i want
to think you loved
me but
deep down
i know i am
-c.h.
an excerpt (#4)
it was there the second i stepped into the room. the tension. it soaked the air, so thick i could have sworn i would have been able to press my fingers into it had i tried. it didn't take long for me to figure out why-- although i did see it coming.
i knew he would be here.
i found it cruel, cruel of whoever, or whatever, was in charge of fate, to bring us together again. not here. this, of all places, was the most haunted. when our eyes met, i knew he was thinking the same thing.
it took all i had to walk towards him, and it felt like i was stepping on glass shards the entire time. with every inch, another memory blasted itself into my mind. i could see the ghosts of us, i could feel his touches, and even now, they made my heart stop. which, more than anything, was what made it so terrifying.
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