Tread, my beau

"Where do you wanna go?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," I texted. "When you grow up."

"Away from here."

I did too. But that conversation was short and I was pulled away from it by something or other. By the time Covid-19 had struck the Bay Area, we'd all managed to adjust to living at home. It was alright, save for the occasional fight from my parents at home.

Hagen knew how to use his words. He was a flirt by nature and knew many people, some I probably might not have ever heard of. To be fair, I flew under the radar most of the time. Didn't know much, maybe oblivious at certain times. He, on the other hand, was well-liked by almost everyone he talked to. I envied his ability to do that. If only it were that easy.

So when he saw me sitting by myself on a school trip with my laptop open writing fanfiction without a care in the world, he naturally took that as a challenge. He wanted me to like him, just like everyone else did.

It worked. There was nothing exciting about it, nothing like the stories I read. Just a few well-placed jokes and all of a sudden, I have a new friend.

I was in the car going grocery shopping with my mother when it started. The lecture.

"You know, I was just talking to the Yuan's. Their son just dropped out of college and now he's lazing around at home all day."

Yuan's son dropped out due to the depression he'd developed because of his parents.

"Do you know why he dropped out? Because he doesn't listen to his parents. He goes and does whatever he does, whenever he wants. He's a good boy, I'm sure, he used to get good grades and he was the pride of their family, his mother told me as such. But the second he gets to college, everything he'd been taught all goes down the drain."

When my mom goes on tangents like these, I tune her out. Maybe give the occasional nod here and there but otherwise, I shut up and pretend to listen. No talking back or defending allowed.

"Tell me, do you want to end up like him, worthless, a deadbeat, the shame of the family?"

Another thing I always keep in mind is that there are more sides to the story than what she's telling me. And I know for a fact without needing to check that their son is the exact opposite of her perception of him.

"No."

"Then you'd best listen to your parents. You young people may think you know everything but the adults have more life experience than you do. Even I still need the help of your grandma and great-grandma. We can't know everything all at once. This is why you need friends as well. So that you can all help each other out."

I've heard it all before.

"Mother knows best, Crista. Never forget that."

Yes mom. It's not like you haven't said it hundreds of other times out of the blue. But still, I know there's some good advice mixed in there. I'll be able to find it.

If I squint. Really hard.

She gives the same lecture to my little siblings and I'm not sure if they listen to her either.

My phone goes off and slightly agitated, I go to silence it. My parents never check it anymore to see if I'm talking to any boys so I'm allowed free reign over who I want to be online.

It's Hagen.

He's home alone. And he wants to meet up.

I had two choices. Tell him no, I can't do that, he knows what my parents are like. At around this point, he's a close enough friend to know I've come to him in tears because of them. He knows nearly everything about me, my dreams, my hopes, my fears and I don't allow many people to know me that well. He knows just how much trouble I'll get in if we're caught.

Or I can tell him yes.

I love my parents. There's no denying that. There's a line that I never cross with them for the sake of our family. It's shaky, built on a foundation that can fall away if too much pressure is put on it. I know their struggles, I know what they had to do to come to the United States. I know the harsh life my grandma and great-grandma had, everything they went through so that someone, anyone in our family could have a chance at a better life.

I'm the eldest daughter. I have responsibilities. I need to be perfect. Pristine. Obedient. Quiet. If not for the sake of my family's pride then for the sake of my little siblings who I hope will never have to go through the pressure I do. I am my parent's first child. Their rough draft.

When I was born, I crushed any hope left that my mother had of reaching her dreams. She wanted to be a businesswoman.

I broke that.

Do I deserve to be selfish? Am I allowed to make my own decisions even if it's a bad one?

Am I allowed this one thing to myself?

There are times when I just want to throw it all away and run. Throw away everything my family gave me to escape everyone's expectations. I want to sprint for the hills and never look back. Travel the world, see it without my parents micromanaging every aspect of my experience. Do things without the constant worry over what my parent's will think, how they'll react.

I want freedom above all else.

Maybe Hagen can show me that.

I told him yes.

While my mom's cooking dinner, I tell her that I'm going on a walk and taking my little sister with me.

"Where are you walking to?" she asked, apprehensive, side-eying my sister in suspicion.

"To the intersection. We won't be gone for long."

"Why? You've never gone on a walk before."

"My friend's starting to work out and she gave me a list of exercises I should try." The flimsy lie rolls off my tongue with ease. "Besides, don't you want Leah to be more outgoing?"

"Be back before dinner."

I have never biked so hard and fast in my entire life. Anxiety, adrenaline, fear, excitement, all of it followed me down the road as I raced for Hagen's house. I think about all the conversations we can have. We can talk and rant about anyone we wanted, we'd talk about the stars or something, I don't know. He is my confidant and home away from home.

It's not love. Not the romantic kind. At the time when I was going, I didn't think about what it would sound like if I told my friends.

I snuck away from my parents and met up with a boy alone at his house.

I'd give them shock.

By the time I reach his gated community, he's there waiting for me, watching a mess of a human come down from the sidewalk. I'm panting, sweating, gasping for air with a shit-eating grin on my face and windswept hair that I didn't even bother tying up.

He smiles. "Aren't you so happy to see me?" It's more of a sly comment than a question.

"Of course! It's been a long while."

"How much time do you have?"

"I have to be back before five."

We start walking and he leads me inside the neighborhood. "Around forty-five minutes then."

"My sister's gracious enough to cover for me." I pull my bike up onto the curb.

"Hah. My siblings would rat me out the minute my parents get home."

"Are they-"

"We're sneaking you in."

Here's the thing about East Asian parents. They'd lose their marbles if they ever found out about this. It's just that mine would lose all of it and the bag as well. Then I'll be kicked to the curb and be the talk of my mom's wide circle of friends and connections. My parents might disown me to save face. But what do I know?

Of course, I'm only speaking from experience and the people my parents bring me around. So naturally, I know who this has happened to. Every family is different but generally, I think I've seen enough to have a good sense of what usually happens.

I was surprised to find that his parents were more lenient than mine. Meaning he won't get kicked out or face heavy repercussion. Good for him. But I faced a risk that could potentially change my whole life if I'm caught.

His apartment is on the ground floor and he tells me to park my bike right under the staircase going up. It's a cold winter day in California and I pull my oversized hoodie up to hide from it. The wind rustles the bushes and leaves and I smell some food cooking from another home as he goes to unlock the door. I listen to it all, soak it in, feel it, relish it. It's quiet.

Peace.

A glimpse of life away from my family.

Guilt crawls up my throat as I wait for him to give me the signal that it's safe for me to come in. This is wrong. I can't do this to my family. They gave their all to me and my siblings and this is what I'm doing with it? I'm defying them. I have to turn back. He still hasn't given me the signal. There's a pit of dread and anxiety in my stomach.

I can leave and explain to him later. Tell him I'm sorry.

Just as I reach for my bike handle I hear a "Crista!" frantically whispered through the doorway.

My mind is screaming for me to turn back. I'm defying my parents. I'm everything right now that my parents hate, that my parents despise. I'm disobedient, an insolent child, I'm throwing away my responsibility as the eldest daughter. What am I doing? What am I doing-

My heart is through the door before I know it, and then I'm rushing to his bedroom as he closes the apartment door behind me.

I've done it.

I've crossed the line. All of a sudden, I'm thinking about all the other lines I still haven't crossed yet, both for my family and for myself, things that I cherish that I promised to never give away.

He closes the bedroom door and we breathe a sigh of relief.

"My siblings are playing games in the other room. They won't come out for a while."

"That's good."

And the most awkward silence follows. Everything I wanted to say to him, all of that goes out the window.

His voice goes soft, finally breaking the silence. "You look like you need a hug."

He draws closer and I physically tense up. I've never been hugged by a guy outside my family. I haven't been hugged by anyone in a long while. My little brother and I can playfight with his nerf guns and any physical touch we have is usually us roughhousing.

My dad and I straight up don't talk.

It's not that I don't like him. I've just given up. There's a distance, a chasm that I don't know how to cross. How do I ask him how his day is? What will I do if he gives a short answer? He's like a deity. Silent, observant. He has the final say in every major decision in our family.

But even deities communicate often with their oracles or mediums. He does not. I can't remember the last time he smiled at me. Or anyone for that matter.

Hagen stops in front of me, towering above with the extra couple inches added to his height. I don't really notice until that moment that I have to tilt my head up to look at him.

"I've just been stressed out is all," I say, the half-truth rolling out my tongue quite easily.

"I can see it on you."

I fiddle with my nails as a thought suddenly hits me. "Are you vaccinated and tested?"

"Of course. I don't want anybody dying inside my home," he snorted.

"Good. I am too."

And I tumble into his arms. He wraps them around me, he's strong, firm, warm. I've never felt safer with anyone else than I did with him. A million thoughts are racing through my head but all my heart can settle on is how good this feels. How easily my worries can be washed away with a single hug.

I'm going to be okay. I can be okay. For once, this is coming from someone else. It's coming from how tightly he's holding me.

I can't breathe. Probably because my mask is still on and he's crushing me in a bear hug. One that I'm immensely grateful for.

We finally pull away and I try not to let onto the fact he almost broke my ribcage.

"Sit down."

There's a mattress on the floor that he sleeps on and I take the spot next to him.

"Take off your mask."

On that, I'm a bit more hesitant. I don't like my face and the piece of cloth covering it was a huge boost to my confidence. No one knows who I am and they don't need to. I prefer it that way.

I shake my head, looking away.

"Why not?"

I breathe in and try to communicate. Something my parents could definitely take notes on. "I have acne and blemishes everywhere on my face. I don't like it."

He laughs a little, but not in a mean way. "Me too and yet here I am with my mask off. We're in the same boat."

I wish I can borrow some of that confidence.

"I'm ugly. I don't like myself." I want him to change his mind, for him to say that I can keep my mask on. I don't want his judgment on my face, even if he says the opposite, his eyes and expression will give away his true feelings about it. I'm insecure about a lot of things, my face being one of them.

Be seen. Never heard. Melt into the background. Stand with silent dignity, speak only when spoken to. Be the daughter my mom wants to show off so my siblings won't have to do it. I'm not the only one who hates crowds and small talk. Save them from the pressure.

Above all else, don't crack.

It takes a while for my hand to hold the string and even longer for me to peel it off. I do it bit by bit, both wanting to see his reaction and avoiding his gaze as if it will save me from the hurt I'll feel if I do see it. When it's finally off, I put it to the side and look away.

I am ashamed. I am not to be looked at. There's no silent dignity here. What I am and who I will be doesn't matter. I'm just me, stripped of my identity and responsibility.

His hand lifts and turns my chin to face him. His dark brown eyes are all I can see. Adoration, in its purest form. I've never seen anything like it. "Perfect."

I believe him. My cheeks have never felt hotter.

"Take off your hoodie. We're inside."

I've done it before in front of him while we're at school. Though for some reason now, it feels so different. It takes me a while to do that too and when I'm done, I'm hugging myself like I'd just exposed every single one of my darkest secrets.

He leans back on his hands and draws closer to me, if we already weren't before. Suddenly I can feel his breath on my shoulder.

"Tell me what you want."

For some reason, I know exactly what he wants and I almost flinch back and scoot away. This was going fast, too fast. Is it always like this in the books? I can't think, I can't remember. Do I want this? It's definitely something new. I want to know. But at the same time, my parents would rain hell down on me if they find out. I've already crossed a line.

"What can you do?"

He smiles at my invitation. "I can show you." He puts a hesitant hand around my waist. Something flutters in my gut. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

A chance to back out. "Yes." I don't take it.

"Are you really sure? We can stop here if you'd like." It's almost like he wants me to.

"Is this something you want to do?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter what I want. I just need your answer."

"Yes."

I can't read the smile on his face before he plants a kiss on my neck. It tingles and sends a shiver down my spine yet I don't shy away from it. He's done it before, with other girls yet I don't mind.

I guess I can now count myself as one of them.

His breath falls onto my collarbone in soft, gentle waves as something foreign and new roars to life inside of me. I want more. I want him to do it again. It felt good. But I also glimpsed freedom. I've made a choice for myself, and I don't ever want to let that go.

"Tell me when to stop." The option is still there for me to take whenever I'd like. He gives it to me with another kiss on my neck, this time right below my jaw. I'm gripping the bedsheets, stiff as a board unable to think straight.

His scent is intoxicating.

I don't tell him to stop. When his hand starts traveling down, all it takes is one look from me to tell him that I'm not ready for that yet and he understands. There were numerous times when he'd gotten so close to my lips. My first kiss was something I promise that I would save for 'the one'. He knows that about me too.

Now that all goes out the window. He might as well. But then again, what are we right now? Friends? Lovers? If he did ask me to be his girlfriend, would I be ready?

The next time he gets close to my face again, I muster the courage to speak up. "Hagen."

He immediately stops and worry flashes in his eyes. "Yes?"

I swallow, trying to put my thoughts into words. "Are you... in love with me?"

There's a tangle of hair that'd fallen over my face and he brushes it away, leaving trails like fire on my skin. "Do you want me to be?"

"I'm not sure." I really don't. I don't feel romantically attracted to him, and yet what we're doing right now isn't normal for people who are just friends. Yet if he were to say he likes me, that he loves me, I wouldn't mind dating him. I would give him everything I had in an instant. Yet having him as my boyfriend would come with a whole slew of problems, mainly concerning my parents.

I'm fighting with myself and he sees it. He makes it easier for me. "I'm not in love with you."

Relief fills me and I don't know if it's the right reaction I should be having. "Good." But then that begs another question. "What are we?"

He thinks for a moment, running a hand through his dark hair. "Have you ever heard of the term 'friends with benefits'?"

I think back to all the fanfiction I've read. The trope had shown up more times than I could count. "Yes." It feels good to put a label on it. This way, there won't be any weird feelings that'll seep in and ruin our friendship.

Sensing my ease, he draws closer again pecking my red-hot cheeks. "Now then, we have ten minutes before you have to start heading back."

Without meaning to, my hand slips behind his neck and I pull him in closer. His breath is on my collarbone again. I'm finally able to label what I'm feeling too. Pleasure.

He trails up my skin making me shiver some more and again, he stops just short of my lips.

"Can you kiss me?"

He stops his own just inches from mine. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes."

"This is something important to you, are you sure you want to give it to me?"

"Kiss me."

When his lips crash into mine, my breath catches in my throat. I'd done it. The shackles of all my responsibilities finally fall away completely, and I give myself in completely to him.

The ten minutes fly by and when we finally stop, I'm still reeling from what happened, all the feelings that I'm overwhelmed by. I put on my hoodie and mask, watching him as he goes to make sure the coast is clear.

Why do I want more? There's citrus on my tongue that I'm just starting to notice. Did he eat a tangerine before I came over?

He sneaks me back out and just as I reach for my bike, I turn and crash into him once more, hoping to crush him with my own bear hug. "You look a lot less stressed already," he chuckles.

"Thank you."

I wonder if he knows just how much I'm thanking him for.

The bike-ride back, I'm smiling from ear to ear, my face still pink. There's no more anxiety, the burden on my shoulders lift and it's no longer crushing. Riding back, it feels like someone had cast a spell on me.

I'd defied my parents in every way possible in a span of forty-five minutes. I should be ashamed, guilty, but I'm not.

I'm free. And he gave me wings.

There's an old church between our two homes, right across a busy intersection. I've been there before with my family for events like Christmas, Easter, the likes of that.

I sneak away about once a month, twice if I'm lucky just to meet him. My sister covers for me and hides out in the neighborhood, waiting for me to come back. She doesn't like going out much and would prefer to stay inside but then my mom would start nagging her. So she'd agreed to help me if I tell her everything.

Since then, she knows almost everything about me and Hagen. I only omitted the parts that were inappropriate for someone her age but she's old enough to know the implications of what happens when we meet.

Our time is always so short but we make the most of it and I always pass the church on my way there.

He never went too far. Our number one rule was to never go below the waistline. We're stupid, but not that stupid. We have universities we want to go to and dreams we haven't started chasing yet.

Here's the thing about me; I can be delusional at times. It's how I cope if things get bad at home and besides, what's the harm in it? I keep it to myself and no one knows.

Maybe Hagen knows. But he doesn't let on. Even if he does, he doesn't stop me either, because he knows I need it. I can lose myself when I'm with him and it's almost real.

It's almost like I have someone who loves me as I am, someone who looks at all my issues and problems and goes "I want her" anyway. It helps immensely.

With every touch, every visit, he shows me love, that I deserve someone who knows me like he does and loves me. He teaches me what my parents never did; that I'm worthy.

That I'm enough.

He wants me to meet him again today.

"I don't have much time." My mother had wanted me home early to help her make joss papers before we went to sweep the graves of my ancestors.

I really wonder what they'd say if they saw their descendant doing this.

"Meet me at the church."

I fall into my delusions again as I run. I'm the main character of a cheesy teenage romance. I'm a princess stealing away in the middle of the night to meet her lover in a beautiful moonlit garden.

In reality we're literally the opposite that.

My friend Kari stared at me n disbelief when I spilled the beans on everything but she didn't put a stop to it. If anything she enabled my delusions with an endless stream of jokes.

The same cold wind sweeps me over again, the one that accompanies me on my visits to him. It's become a companion. I'm giddy as I wait for the light to turn, thinking about when this would all end. It has to. My delusions can only last for so long. What Hagen and I have now will have to dissipate.

Because it's our senior year.

Still, I prefer not to think about it.

When I finally cross the street, I dash into the parking lot just as he's pulling in with his bike. The second he lays eyes on me, I know there's a giant smile from under his mask. They always say that a person's eyes can give away their true feelings. It's what I'm looking at right now, and along with the wide grin, there's something else.

Something softer.

"Have you ever been to the back of the church?"

I shake my head.

"It's a good spot. Perfect for you."

"What do you mean?"

"You can sit there for hours on end in peace, all alone."

It sounds like a dream. I could always get lost in my head whenever I need to but it has its downsides. Sometimes I could drift off without even knowing it. That comes with it's own set of problems that I don't want to think about at the moment.

He parks his bike against a tiny wall separating the small space from the backlot. I don't notice him approaching me yet because I'm already busy with my head in the clouds. It's not intentional, of course. I literally can't help it sometimes.

He helps ground me to reality with a squeeze of my hand.

"Have you thought about where you want to go?" Although leaving wouldn't be for a few more months, I can't help but keep thinking about it.

"Away from this city. Hawaii. LA, if I don't get accepted." He tilts his head. "You?"

"My parents want me close to them."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Of course they do."

"I want to get out of the state. Remember the art school I've always wanted to go to?"

"Your dream university?"

"I have a full ride for the first year. It's in Florida." His eyes widened as I run a hand through my hair, sighing in frustration. "No matter what I tried to tell them, they want me to stay here. My dream school. Down the drain. " I kick a pebble and it hits the church wall. "I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of them."

He looks at me, not quite sure what to say, or if he does, he can't put it into words. But his touch can. His hand slides up my arm, slowly pulling me in. It's that feeling again, always the same feeling of being consumed by something. My emotions maybe. Or his scent.

Whatever it is, my frustration melts away and all I can think of and focus on is him.

His embrace is the most comfortable thing in the world. I find myself at night longing for it after a hard day. It's safe. It shields me from whatever terrible thing plagues my mind. I can just fall into it.

I can forget. What I wouldn't give to have something like this every day.

His breath is slow and steady, I can feel it against my head as I close my eyes along with his heartbeat. I listen to it, the world falling away. It's just us, and nothing and nobody else. He's warm. He always is. I think back on just how many jokes we made about him being a portable heater.

We pull away, if I can even call it that with me still wrapped in his arms. He lifts my chin up to face him, to look him in those beautiful brown eyes, now shining with the sun reflected on them like a mirror of my own.

Then he speaks, in a voice so soft I can barely hear it over the sound of distant traffic. Filled with so much of some tender emotion I can't even explain.

"You'll be free soon."

I wish I could record it and play it back until his voice is drilled into my head. I wanted so badly to bottle up this moment and keep it on me forever. So many scenarios where I'm the main character replay in my head.

I'm an old woman with the recording of my dead husband's voice in a locket that I wear. On the nights that get too lonely, I open it and listen to his calm, reassuring voice.

I'm a prisoner in the dungeons of a castle, listening to the soft promise of a rogue who'd fallen for me through the bars.

Love. A story I crave for myself.

"Can I kiss it all away?" he asks, still equally soft as before. He knows what I need.

"Please."

Kari never let me hear the end of it when I tell her I made out with a boy behind a church the next day. My sister looked at me in disgust.

"What's with that face? Maybe someday you'll find someone too."

She gagged. "I'd rather die alone."

Our last kiss behind the church was nothing special. It was rushed. And like always, I didn't have much time. I never did.

He drove seven hours down to LA while I moved into my campus in San Francisco. We talked often, but yet there's always one fact that loomed over our conversations; he's never coming back.

Neither will I when I finally leave the state. But I'll have to wait it out for now. At least the beaches make it more bearable. I'm able to live out my delusions. Right now I'm a sailor's lover waiting for him to come back from the sea.

It's windy enough that the ocean mist is carried up the cliff all the way to me. It's calm, peaceful. I can finally relax, slow down, just like he always told me to. I find myself thinking of him often, how he's doing, what he's doing. What he looks like now. Had he gotten taller?

For the first semester, I had more freedom than I ever did, but I could never keep it from my parents. They always asked and they're never too far away from the university to come up and visit.

I'd gotten into rifle, and surprisingly, I was really good at it for someone who's never picked up a gun before. It quickly became another choice that I'd made for myself and the scores I was getting were really good.

But when I told my mom about it, she told my dad. Then they both discussed it with my grandparents. Then my uncle who's on the other side of the pacific ocean. Then my great-grandmother.

And the whole family decided I can't do it anymore. That I have to stop going. Even without seeing them every day, they still managed to have a tight grip on me and I realized one thing; I could never, ever, truly get away from them. I'll always be under their control.

"You're 18, Crista. You're old enough to know how dangerous it is to hold a gun. What if something happens to you? What if there's an accident?"

"I'm careful, mom, my coach would never let anybody who doesn't know all the rules into the club. He always emphasizes that safety is first above all else."

"You don't know what the world is like. You don't know how horrible it can be because you're still so young. Trust me, I've been alive longer than you and I've seen many, many terrible things."

The many terrible things she sees are from state-propagated news.

"You need to quit. Our entire family is worried sick about you because of it. Your father's lost his appetite, and I and your grandma have lost sleep. It's not safe and we don't want you going anymore. Understand?"

The urge to just hang up on my mom was immensely strong. My thumb was right there, so close to the button. Yet I couldn't.

"Crista, you're old enough now to know what's good and what's not. So tell me, will you still be going?"

Too much is at stake if I don't quit and I start to overthink. Not about the club, more about what will happen to my family. About how my siblings will be taking the brunt of the screaming matches and fights to come.

Through gritted teeth I managed to spit out the words. "I'll stop going."

Immediately, her voice sweetens. "That's my little girl. Always remember to tell us everything that's going on. We're just trying to keep you safe. Be a good girl alright?"

I don't answer.

"I've gotta go, goodbye!"

I'd hung up, fuming, alone in my dorm. When Hagen called me, he knew that something was off and I tell him everything.

"Your family will be fine, they won't disintegrate because you're doing something you love. You're 18, an adult. You can make your own choices. What your mother's saying and doing is bullshit. You're unhappy nearly every time I call you and it's always because of your parents. You don't have to tell them everything. It's college, do things you want to do, that you love. You deserve it. You need it. Now repeat after me; I'm an adult. I deserve to be happy and I deserve the right to make my own choices."

By the time we're done with the call, I've made up my mind. When my mom calls me the next week, I tell her I've quit. My scores during practice improve and I keep them like a proud secret. Sometimes I wish I can show my parents. Tell them I'm finally doing so well in something I love. I want them to be proud of me too.

Hagen, my sister, and Kari help fill in that hole. Not completely, but it helps. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have them.

And once again, I find myself thanking Hagen for breaking the last remnants of my shackles. For freeing me, one more time. My identity does not always have to revolve around my family or my responsibilities. I can shape who I want to be with my own two hands.

I grasped that when I asked for a kiss. The first choice I've ever made for myself and he was there for that. He was there for all of it.

I sit down near the edge of the cliff, staring out onto the glittery blue ocean. It's a beautiful and terrifying thing. There are monsters in the deep that we may never know of but the surface looks like something out of a fairytale.

I'd ruminated on my feelings on my first night in the dorms and over the course of one semester, I struggled to put it into words. I'd just finished it yesterday, but I'm not about to let anybody know or read it.

I want my feelings to be lost, but not forgotten. The open waters can do that for me. I fold the note in my hands into the shape of a paper airplane. It's a bit shabby, I'm not good at it. But it's something. Then I shove it into a small glass bottle with a cork.

With a kiss, I toss it in, watching it fall and with it, a duplicate of my heart. I wonder if my feelings would ever be discovered by someone or if it would sink to the bottom. Either way is fine with me.

I stay for another two hours before catching the bus back to my dorm.

Tread, my beau, down Memory Lane

To your home where you stole my first kiss

My treasure, gold, locked in a safe

Protected by stone, Broken by hammer

Where I gave it with hungry desperation

To the church you stole more of my kisses behind

I deceived, lied, sinned, for the world I saw.

We were sand in a safe hourglass, falling away

and when the last grain falls, so too does your illusion

You showed me love, even if it was false

You showed me freedom, and I fell.

My gratitude knows no bounds, my debt limitless

When the world parts us, when we no longer

remain, I will remember you in the earth.

This is my confession. This is my sin.

Judge me. Punish me. But I will remain as I am.