I remember | Teen Ink

I remember

March 28, 2015
By alice-in-neverland BRONZE, Pendergrass, Georgia
alice-in-neverland BRONZE, Pendergrass, Georgia
1 article 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted." -Percy Bysshe Shelley


I remember being with you and laughing unti I was gasping for air.

I remember my body pressed against yours the way the sun is against the horizon at sunset, feeling your heart beat against mine, confusing yours for my own.

I remember pressing my lips into your neck and feeling the pulse rushing through your body as I left a mark on what was mine.

I remember the first time you said the three words that caused my world to melt into complete happiness around me as I said those same three words back to you, whole-heartedly.

I remember seeing your smile slowly fade and your eyes lose their ecstasy I used to see when you would gaze at me.

I remember realizing that you fell out of love with me, and that everything was a simple feeling that would soon change over time.

I remember crying so much that one would question the amount of liquid inside someone's body.

 I remember seeing how happy you were without me and how much it hurt to see you.

It is slowly killing me to remember the scent of you. I can't look into your eyes without remembering how easily I could get lost in them each day before. It's impossible for me to remember all of the things you said and try to convince myself that they weren't true, sweet nothings. Nothings because that's what they were.

I remember loving someone that couldn't love me back. And even though I try my best not to, it will always be the most memorable of my memories. So you sit there, and have your fun while I'm stuck in this hell called my mind, remembering. Remembering, remembering, REMEMBERING.

Trying to forget and still remembering and remembering,

Crying and still remembering,

Giving up...and still remembering.


The author's comments:

What inspired me? The boy who took my heart (that I gave him willingly) in his hands, and slowly clenched as hard as he could, until it burst into pieces, and walked away as if nothing happened. The boy who's sweater sits in my closet, begging me to wrap my arms in it and soak my tears into it.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.