The Story of a Relationship

Note:  The following poem is an original poem written by me. 

 

Begin.

It was an early crisp fall day.

Some say that January 1st is the day of new beginnings.

I think that the new school year is a time of tabula rasa.

You sat right next to me.

One day, you said hi.

I wondered if you were always sitting there.

Or, were you something that I noticed now that the surroundings have become familiar?

I didn’t know that by a simple breath, a simple hello.

That I didn’t want to ever say good-bye to you.

Will you ask me?

Will you ask me to be your girlfriend?

Will you ask me to the movies, where who knows what happens in the dark?

Will you do more than gaze at me and never let your feelings known?

What are we?

Are we more than friends?

You smell awfully nice for me to be just a friend.

You paid for my ticket.

What the hell is going to happen next?

The day after December.

I went to your house.

My friend drove me.

Your friend liked her.

For the first time, I thought that maybe this could be something.

I wondered what was going to happen next as you hugged me goodbye.

And comforted me later, as I cried.

You were something.

You suddenly began slipping away.

It was gradual.

I started to notice.

I wondered if it was because of me.

Or was it because of the ghost that haunts your closet.

The demons were too strong for me to compete.

So I took a step back.

Noticed how much you truly were eclipsed with a sea of darkness.

I wanted to be your superhero.

I wished I could take it all away.

However, the battle was meant for you to fight.

I didn’t know when to run.

All of the signals were there.

Yet, I was too stupid to ignore them.

It took one sentence to change my mind about you.

Someone who I thought was good and pure.

Someone who I thought would always have something nice to say.

I didn’t want to think about you.

It hurt that I choose someone who wasn’t you.

It felt like I wasn’t good enough for someone perfect.

I wondered would I ever find that complete perfection?
Or would it be something that I would look at through a glass?

I didn’t know if I ever would achieve that.

I avoided you.

I avoided thinking about you.

If I saw you, I would run away.

That got old.

So, one day I approached you.

I faced my fear head on.

I then wondered what I saw in you.

I look back and feel like that was a lifetime ago.

I managed to come back from you, forever realizing that you are vanilla.

Yes you were perfect.
But your perfection was a result of striving to be perfect.

I will no longer be haunted by your memory.

And, I am now over the blue eyes I once thought were attractive.

Our story is over.

But my own is still happening.