prose poem #1

"The truth is...I don't love you anymore."

That hurt. That hurt a lot. I thought I'd never be okay again.

After that, we stopped talking. We didn't even look at each other in class.

That day, I skipped our class. I stayed in the bathroom, crying. I had my own stall.

Whenever the door opened, I'd hold my arms up to my face. Nobody could know.

I cried for a while, then the custodian came in. She was cleaning. I decided to leave.

But I wasn't sure where to go. All I knew for sure was that I didn't want to be at school anymore.

I didn't want to be here.

I still see him, every once in a while.

In the hall. In the atrium. In the commons.

Passing by, going on. One time he looked at me and smiled.

But it wasn't a good smile. It was a courteous one.

I hated him for being so polite. So unconcerned. 

He'd broken my heart, and he didn't even seem to flinch.

The next day, I stayed home from school. I convinced my mother I was sick.

I grabbed a bottle of cough syrup and drank it all.

I wish I would have died.

But I got sick instead. Actually sick.

I vomited in the bathroom for hours. I got scared.

I called my best friend and she came over and picked me up.

She took me to her house. Her parents were gone for the week.

Business. Vacation. I don't remember.

After the sickness passed, we drank orange juice and watched cartoons.

A year later they found my friend in her closet, hanging.

She'd tied a rope to the clothing pole and dropped to her knees.

I remember the funeral we had for her. The tragedy it should have been.

Her parents never cried. They left the funeral early.

I waited until the next day, when everybody was gone.

And then I put a glass of orange juice on her grave. I sat there and laughed with her for hours.

I wish she was still alive.

He never knew how much I loved him.

I mean, I told him. Multiple times. I mentioned it a lot.

But I don't think he ever understood--he certainly never reciprocated.

I lost my virginity to him. I never told anybody about that. Except for my best friend.

She took that secret to the grave.

When I first told her, she made fun of me. But then she asked how it was.

The truth is... it was only okay.

I was worried and uncomfortable the whole time. It didn't last long, but it felt weird.

I didn't really enjoy it. We only had sex two other times after that.

That may have been why he dumped me. But I never took him for that type.

But then I've always been so naive.

He has a new girlfriend now. 

I see them holding hands and kissing sometimes.

In the halls. In the atrium. In the commons.

Sometimes I see them and I want to run away.

I thought about changing schools. Or being blind.

Sometimes I pray that the school will burn down. And I'll never have to see them again.

But it never happens.

I'll get over him someday... that's what my mother tells me. She's so naive.

I loved him so much.

The other day we ran into each other at the cafeteria.

He asked me how I've been. I said I've been fine.

I asked him how he'd been. He said he was doing great.

I hope his new girlfriend dies. Just kidding--that would be awful.

What I really do hope, though, is that someday someone will do to him what he did to me.

And then he'll finally know my pain.

That, I think, would be ideal.

Author's Note

love <3