White Sheets

I remember white sheets, the disregarded television, the low lights and the annoyingly repetitive music.

Earlier that night, I had tried my best, and my worst, to come along and finally meet you. In all honesty, discomfiture, and shame, today, I can admit I did. You never failed to let me understand how much you wanted to try your best too. How sweet you’ve become towards me over a measly few days.

I remember how we smelt of cigarettes and beer, but did we care? Somehow it only brought us closer to one another. It brought our mouths closer.

Our friends had known. We’d known they had, though. Yet all both of us did was smile under the sheets and you held me in your soft arms for the first time. I attempted feigning sleep though my heart was melting. Your sorry attempt of the same action only caused me to reveal how girlish my giggles were.

I remember how cold the night was, how cold the fabric was, how cold the beer was. My left hand seemed to slowly, unconsciously, snake its way to the back of your neck. I realize how that caught you on fire when you took my remaining hand, grasped it hard, and never let go. Would you have done the same if she was in my place?

Rumors, the next day, were that you had defiled her under the same moon. School was awkward, as were the students’ eyes. You told me nothing, literally, nothing. And yet your eyes tell how you fucked her hard and watched her die on the cold, bloody floor. As expected, I should have been appalled, I should have been crying, I should have stabbed you with a pen right then and there. But what was most unanticipated was that I was not, I would not and I did not. Because right then and there, I left you, on your own, to mourn over your mistakes. Let me do the same over mine. Let me do the same over you.

I remember how fragile it felt when our lips finally met, when they were longing to do so. Over the night, everyone fell dead to the world while we created heaven on earth within ours. I have to say, with much sincerity, I have never been given softer kisses. No one would have held me tighter. No other boy could have caused my heart to burn when it was already melting.

I thought, maybe, the following day, I could grant you your desire, to let us be together. Maybe, I can, somehow, create space for you in my life. Maybe, just maybe, I could turn our ‘mutual understanding’ into something more like ‘love’.

But, I remembered, that on that following day, I would forget you, and your boyish smile. I took note from the very beginning, you could not have my heart as it wasn’t yours to take. Had I used you, and myself, to gain, what say, sexual satisfaction? I did what I had because I wanted you, nothing more. And I suppose you felt likewise.

******, you are naught but a short, dull memory of a boy from whom I learned to close my heart and open my mind.

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