literature

mine

Deviation Actions

Published: Nov 21, 2016

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Literature Text

_{she was perfect to me.
the smell of her skin was everything to me.
i was also scared of her;
she sometimes put her head on my lap and i could feel her pulse beating through
my denim jeans.
one of her teeth was chipped, and i called her my runaway because she left home
at 17.

i smelled like cotton mist after it rained she had said,
i wondered if she wanted to die with me,
if it would make her happy to have a gravestone next to mine.
if her parents would still put flowers on her grave.

we met one cloudy day in may, there was fog all over her windowsill,
and she had bright brown eyes that trickled tears when she talked about
herself.
i wanted to let her know everyday that she was the scent i wanted to wake up to,
that even though i had always imagined myself alone,
i began to see her in my dreams, and i felt as if she were my hand
to always hold.

she started to get sick, her hair started to fade like the way ink does on paper
when it bleeds,
and her cheeks went hollow and her eyes got brave,
and those nights i would think about her,
alone.

her parents visited her the night after i came,
and they reminded me of that freckle under her wrist,
and the way she used to laugh at the chair her dad loved so much
when it creaked.
her mother told me all about her, the parts of her i hadn't known existed and...
i guess we just existed in our own little cave.

but god, i told them how much she meant to me,
and her mother cried and asked me how she'd been all these years,
and my mouth creaked open and i swallowed my tears,
and i told them that she was
fine.

she still laughed at my silly lullabies,
and i wished i could see the real color of her hair,
and i started to forget which tears were which,
when she cried if she meant it or if she were
just in pain.

i had a long talk with her mother and father,
we went to the store and it was weird to
pretend as if our whole lives hadn't just fallen
apart one morning,
and i guess we just learned that the sun set and
the sun rose at the same time each day, and nothing
ever changed.

she was my beautiful girl,
my holiday and my birthday party and my christmas card all wrapped into
one.

the day she died i sat at her gravestone.
her mom touched my shoulder, and we talked about her favorite songs
and how she used to love the strangest little things.

i touched her cheek before she died.
she felt cold, she had never felt cold.

i had been so lucky, and i never really believed in luck,
or karma, or god,
or love.

and then one day i found this girl on my doorstep,
crying and bleeding,
and i took her into my arms and she was
mine.}