i dabble in the art of illusions
pretending nothing penetrates my veil of apathy
that the people i once loved are just that: once loved, once ago
but the act of getting over someone is never-ending
a constant and painful forgetting
murdering the memory of something once held so dear
but now it means nothing at all
every boy i ever loved
has his own physical space in my head
their own colors and smells
always alive in an in-between state in my mind
after the beginning but before the end
this is how i cherish them:
i.
the first boy's color is orange and he smells like cheap cologne
there is not much else to say about him
except that young love feels so much more real when you are in it
but when it fades you are left with nothing save for
a trickle of embarrassment
and a firm decision never to repeat the same mistake
so thank you for teaching me to respect myself above everything
but fuck you for planting the first seed of wariness in my still genuine heart
and fuck you for everything that happened next
ii.
the second boy is red, vibrant and frantic, and he smelled of delicate ivory soap
everything with him was whirlwind passion
i was always crying—from happiness or frustration
when it became impossible to differentiate between the two i knew something was wrong
yet i stayed for the rapture
thinking "this is what it's like to be young and in love"
when really it was just being young and lost
and one day i woke up and the ardor had trickled to a vague interest
the fire that once crackled now coughed
and then fizzled into lethargy without any warnings
i struggled to explain to him that it wasn't him, it was me
and merely watched from the stands as he came completely undone
and that's when I realized that pain was alright
as long as it wasn't happening to me
iii.
the third boy is golden-brown, tender and inviting and he smelled of ocean shampoo and coffee
everything about him was sun-kissed: his hair, his soft skin, the warm embrace of his arms
i had grown accustomed to boys with calloused hands, hardened edges, and dark corners, as empty and cold as basements
yet he was open and bursting with light, as comfortable and intimate as a bedroom
until the dark in me had overcame his light
and his warmth dissolved into my cold: cold touches, loveless glances, spiteful words
until, at last, i snuffed out the last tendrils of his glow with my transgressions
let him cradle me in our bed while I burrowed into his chest and devoured his heart
i have regretted it ever since
we weren't compatible in most levels beyond physical
but he never deserved what i did to him and i'll always be remorseful
maybe one day things will be different but I fear his heart has hardened and it is far too late
these three boys taught me that broken people break people
and forced me to end that chain
before it was too late for me