Poetry of Memories

You asked for memories, sorry if there's too many:

Number one, the first time I made you laugh. I remember it well as if we were in the same school corridor now as we were eight years ago. Did you already sense the obsession or was you as curious as me?

Number two, my 14th birthday party. Sprawled across the kitchen floor singing along to something alternative, I looked at you like you were the only thing in my world. I know you saw it, why didn’t you let me down easy?

Number three, our first kiss. I think I suppressed this memory because it hurts too much. You said I looked pretty walking into town the day after my birthday party.

Number four, your constant fascination with twitter and vine. Did you want to become an influencer or did you just want compliments from those who didn’t know the real you? Were my compliments not enough?

Number five, our old hair cuts. Nothing special just something to laugh at. That summer, your bubblegum pink hair and my purple eyebrows, we were such a team. I look back fondly and laugh now, what were we thinking?

Number six, sharing a bed. Was I another body underneath your sheets? To me these moments were special, being close to you and feeling your breath down my neck. Not sexual, just passionate togetherness.

Number seven, the park swings. Watching you sway back and forth makes me dizzy to this day. Like an angel you was, with the voice of a lost soul you screeched the lyrics to the music we used to listen to. I told you I liked your singing and at the time I think I did. We kissed underneath the trees in the park and I ran my fingers over your calves patterned with white fishnet tights. You were so beautiful and yet didn’t believe a word I ever said.

Number eight, recreating titanic. Weekly we attended the youth group that equally brought us closer and tore us apart. I met the second love of my life at that group. I think you both knew I was a mess but you clung on away, dragging me further away from myself.

Number nine, the school residential. I slept on the floor one night so I didn’t wake you and you just called me stupid. I probably was but I didn’t need to hear those words from your mouth. I watched you destroy yourself and it didn’t seem to matter because I was doing the same to myself. We made a blanket fort and huddled together in our fantasies, pretending that the feelings we had were real. I think mine were, I still cry thinking about it.

Number ten, falling in love. I think I told you one day and you kissed me. That kiss was no different from the others you had given me. I had crushes on many people at school but I hated that you were the one that seemed to replicate them. You picked yourself apart and I watched because I couldn’t bare the thought of you leaving. You knew me, you knew what I could do, but you kept me around for a benefit, someone to pick you up and for you to throw down when you were having a bad day. Why did I feel for you?

A side note:

I had to look back at diary entries as I needed prompts to reconnect with the memories I had with you. I pushed them to the back of my brain as after you left everything became too painful. I wonder if you remember any of these things. I wonder if you remember me and how I was. We’re both different now, eight years later, and yet I think of you and am overcome with confusing emotions. Are you an angel? A demon? A demonic, yet angelic person? You were you, and I feel for that. I don’t thank you, but look back with no regrets, your torture made me stronger.

A little extra information:

This poem was written about a highschool crush as part of a series where I am writing about the people who have shaped me. This is the first big piece that I have done and am excited to produce more work in this style. I hope you enjoy and look forward to the rest.

As always thank for reading my work, Alex