Page 10 of Poems He Wrote

“Put yours into my phone, I got a new number recently, so I don’t know it by heart.” The lies keep piling up.

He types it in quickly, one foot already out the door. As he gives me my phone back and lifts his gaze to mine, his eyes are covered in a sheer coat of disappointment. I would give anything to take my lies back, and erase this hurt from his face, but I can’t.

“It looks good on you.” he says, “The tattoo, I mean. Don’t look it up, I’ll tell you what it means when we see each other again.”

“Sure, I can do that.” I choke out, tears already collecting in my eyes.

He kisses me deeply one more time, whispers a tiny ‘goodbye’, and leaves. I absently twist the keys to lock the door, and move to the sofa. Hiding myself in the blankets I silently let my tears fall.

The best night of my life. The best sex I’ve ever had. The kindest words I’ve ever heard… All from someone I know I could never have.

6

Cool cool boy - Rosenfeld

Noah

-One year ago-

She never called, she never even texted. The word she tattooed onto me burns hotter every day. I seem to like the pain it brings, since I always keep it uncovered. The need to see it is strong. The need to see her is stronger, if not to repeat it all, just to ask her what went wrong. I still wonder why I feel this strongly about her.

I can’t go home and look into my dad’s eyes. He’ll know something is wrong, and I’m not quite ready to talk about it. I avoided him for a year, making up dumb excuses as to why I can’t come visit. I even lied about not being able to take a video call. What would I say? ‘Hey dad, I'm sorry I look like shit, I haven’t been sleeping well, nor eating like a normal human for the past few months, since I’ve kinda fallen in love with a one night stand I had when you got married.’,he would simply be delighted.

Not as much as Tia is. She’s ripping me a new one every day, she is particularly pushy if she sees me hanging with a girl. Matilda never says anything. She knows better. She sees how I look at my wrist, wanting to burn it off, just as much as wanting to keep it forever.

Leaning on the sidewall of the building, I ring the interphone one last time, hoping she would finally slip and pick up. The clicking sound snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Khm.. Hi, It’s Noah, again.” I clear my throat.

“Hi, Noah, listen… Actually, you know what? I’ll be down in a minute.” the guy on the other side says before clicking the line off.

I take a step back just in time for a short, stubby dude with glasses to come out. He looks at me up and down, before his jaw drops.

“Noah?” he asks.

“Yeah,“ I say, stretching my hand out to him, “Noah, nice to meet you!”

“I’m Stefan.” he responds, shaking my hand, “You smoke?”

I shake my head ‘no’ as I follow him around the old building to a pair of beat-up benches. He sits down, lites a cigarette up and takes a long drag, which almost makes him cough.

“I hate smoking inside, it makes my flat smell like an ashtray. Anyway, I really don’t know who Rory is, man. There was this dude living here before me. Corey, I think. No girl was on the lease.” He clears his throat, looking me up and down again, “But you must’ve fucked up big time if she refuses to seeyoufor a whole year.”

“I didn’t do anything… As far as I know. Listen, I’m really sorry I keep coming over, I just had to check one last time.”

“It’s fine, man, it’s just… Sad, you know?” he pauses, “I mean, I don’t mind you. I see you as a sad, disturbed guy that knocks on my door sometimes…”

“Gee, thanks… I know, you told me already. I just can’t get her out of my mind.” My voice breaks a little.

“Good luck finding her, man.” he laughs taking another hit, “If she doesn’t want you, I will take you. I don’t swing that way, but shit man, you’re gorgeous.”

I can’t help but laugh at his unexpected words. It makes me feel like less of a pathetic loser than I've been for the past year. We chat for a bit more before I look at my wrist and realize I should get going.

I walk up to my car and just stand there for a little while, letting my hair fly free in the wind. Stabbing behind my eyes intensifies as an overwhelming amount of sadness washes over me. She ismy girl. I know it in my bones, but I can’t figure out the moment it all snapped to save my life.

Jesus fucking Christ, she asked me to mark her so she could have me forever, so why the fuck didn’t she call?

Slamming my car door, I turn the music on and drive back to Poppy Valley. The streets I pass look dull now and laughter seems to piss me off more than anything. It’s like her fall-colored hair and her big black eyes have drained my world of color and happiness. My shoes are not as shiny, my skies are nothing but gray. I can’t get the taste of cherries off of my tongue. I can’t wash her off of my body. I can’t stop living in this painful sin called Rory. And I can’t write…

---