Waking up in a stranger’s bed again
Half under a duvet
Creased from the remnants
Of pseudo love
You don’t remember my name
And don’t care to ask
For fear of shame
But like everything about myself
I had put it away
The moment I wandered your hall
And agreed to stay
With the morning came its light
And I somehow caught your eye
From the other side of the bed
But the passion had
Died as quickly as the night
And no words were said
You’d got what you wanted long
Before my eyes awoke
To those unfamiliar walls
Which I couldn’t now recall
But I’d outstayed my welcome
So I left with the promise
Of a call
I would never get
I walked out the door,
To the open air that wreaked of reality
And I promised my self no more
Will I be caught
Under a duvet
Without a name
But I get home to a text
From another guy
‘What u doing tonight’
‘Not much you?’
‘Fancy a good time?’
And without even a sigh
I’m gone again
Believe it or not, I began ‘playing the field’ as quite the young whipper-snapper. But of course, like most relationships during the earlier years, this one sadly did not work out for my eleven year old self. As the perpetrator of the dumping, I can say that there is always a certain amount of pressure to plan your words carefully so as not to psychologically rupture your (soon to be) ex’s self esteem.
Apparently I took this moral obligation very seriously as I even drafted my words thoroughly before giving them to him in the form of a final farewell.
I have only just recently remembered all of this through actually finding the drafts which I made, whilst clearing out my room. It took me a very long time to recall the nature and origin of these words; clearly the experience wasn’t as heart-rendering as my eleven-year old melodramatic self may have otherwise believed since it so easily slipped from my mind.
And here is the infamous scripture-
‘I can’t go out with you. anymore. Its just
because I’m really fed up with everything at the
moment. I’m just so fed up.
No one sticks up for me. everyone just
laughs at me and I cant do it anymore
I’m sorry for letting you Down.
Feel free to hate me Just like everyone
else. Please unterstand. tho.
Bloomin’ heck. The initial light-hearted tone of this post has obviously been thoroughly annihilated by the woeful and gloomy tone of the draft which I used to dump by boyfriend. I am glad that I got over the ‘no-body understands me waa waa’ phase quite early on in my teens and I’m also glad that I was able to cheer up considerably within the years that followed my first year at secondary school which, as for many people, wasn’t the most enjoyable.
Nonetheless, I am quite impressed with all the literary techniques I was able to exhibit at such a young age. For example there is a nice dollop of repetition, short emphatic sentences and I even played the timeless entity which is the pity card. Although I’m sure some critics may say that I even ‘over-played’ that one.
I sincerely hope that this post has not inspired as much cringing as I have consequently endured from recalling such horrors from my memory.
I am infatuated by you… and have been for so long that it appears I can do nothing but accept these feelings like one may learn to accept a disease; though it invades my mortality as a ceaseless curse, I can try only to tolerate the fever. But there is no hope to utilise what is neither wanted nor calculable.
Yet, love like my love for you can not be cured with pills or time like an ailment of the body. There is no remedy to numb nor withhold my feelings for you. These feelings that cling to me like stale smoke distorting my breath. Feelings which still cling and refuse, in their stubborn blaze, to wither.
You haunt my dreams. My sleep is a recurring, but ever false, sanction where we declare our inextinguishable love and I believe it all to be real until you’re once again taken from me as my eyes open to the bare and hopeless reality where you are not and we are no longer. I awake to a world where every piece of my love for you remains untouched and untold.
What is it about your snarling grin which arouses every nerve in my body like rocks smashing the serenity of a steady river?
I yearn for your brown curls and every crevice that forms each inch and pixel of your beauty.
With every wander of my mind you’re there; waiting.
And my days turn as empty as their days before without you.