The scars on my heart are shaped like your mouth. You took more than just a taste. You left multiple bite wounds, some of which have only started to fade.
The largest one is from the day you left me speechless, the last time I saw you, the last time I will probably ever see you. You walked away and never looked back, left me there flailing, and I drove home with the same song on repeat, a song about a hurricane.
My favorite one is when I met you after dark on the stones of our college campus when you were taking a break from studying in the library, and though I didn’t know it then, I loved you. I loved you more than I had ever loved anyone before. And you kissed me on those forbidden stones while people ran by singing, “get a room,” but you didn’t care, we didn’t care. All I cared about was you, and your lips on my neck.
The freshest one is from the summer before last. How you whisked me away to a magical fairytale land where time stood still, and it was just you and me and the woods. Time was our currency and I was greedy, surpassing my credit limit until suddenly, my week with you was over, and I found myself flying back to the other side of the country, without you.
From my debut book of poetry and prose, WANDERER, available on Amazon.