the boys i've loved & the end of the world

by Catarine Hancock

  image of a dream high school love: she wears his jacket and he

  walks her to class holding her hand. his jacket collar is high

  enough that people don't notice the bruises.

  observation #4: the boy in the black pea coat is in love with the

  girl one row over and two desks up. he stares too much.

  observation #5: the girl does not know that she is loved like she

  is, at least by him. why should she? he never talks.

  observation #6: some bruises are too dark to be covered up with

  concealer. people are starting to notice.

  observation #7: a student keeps a bottle of adderall in her

  backpack. the prescription is hers, but it's not for her. it's

  almost finals, her friends say. they can't study without it. she

  knows it's wrong, but she could use the money.

  observation #8: the couple enters the room, except they are

  separate. she doesn't have his jacket and he doesn't hold

  her hand. she moves away from him, next to the boy with the

  black pea coat. he checks the bruises every time she sits

  down. after a week, they've faded.

  observation #9: the boy with the black pea coat won't stop

  staring at the girl one row over, two desks up. one day, she

  turns around and catches his eye. she smiles. there is hope.

  observation #10: the girl with the backpack sells adderall to

  the boy who beat his girlfriend. he tries to flirt with her, and

  she tells him to fuck off. he hits the wall as he walks away. she

  wonders how the girl didn't see it coming.

  observation #11: the girl looks back at the boy with the black

  pea coat more often. he has pretty eyes. she can see the blue in

  them from here.

  observation #12: sometimes she must talk to her ex boyfriend

  and the places he hit her burn. the boy with the black pea coat

  is always there. he says nothing, just watches, and makes eye

  contact with her when he leaves. silence is the loudest thing at

  times.

  observation #13: the boy with the black pea coat does not love

  the girl one row over and two desks up anymore. which is sad,

  because she was just starting to love him.

  observation #14: the girl with the backpack uses the money

  from selling adderall to buy christmas presents for her family.

  two days later she is caught with it in her backpack and is

  suspended for three days. no medication on campus, they said.

  she thinks about the toy she got her little brother.

  observation #15: on christmas day, the girl with the backpack

  helps her little brother open a new lego set. the boy with the

  black pea coat starts looking up more and the girl one row over

  and two desks back stops looking back. she never gets to tell

  him he has pretty eyes. the girl next to him does it for her. there

  is kissing instead of hitting. but what once was lingers. it always

  lingers.

  -c.h.

  eulogy of a broken heart

  everything falls apart

  everything dies

  your hands crumbled to dust

  and fell through my fingertips

  i lost you oh god

  i lost you

  i thought that

  you would stay

  but you blew away with

  the wind and faded from

  my eyes i wonder

  where you are now

  you used to

  tell me i was

  something otherworldly and

  i told you the same

  but you went on an adventure

  and never came back

  they say that

  graveyards are the

  scariest of places but

  for me it is the mirror

  because when i look into it

  you are not by my side anymore

  and nothing

  is scarier

  than that

  -c.h.

  metaphorically speaking

  it's impossible to describe exactly how you made me feel but

  you were like a cold drink on an eighty degree day, you were

  like freshly shaven legs, you were like feeling the beach sand in

  between your toes and the waves lapping against your shins, you

  were refreshing, renewing. i don't know how to describe exactly

  how it felt when you touched me but it was like a hot towel

  pressed against my skin, it was like the slightest of

  electrocutions, it was like feeling the warm sun beat down on

  your back, it was intense, warm. i could never explain exactly

  how it felt when you broke me but it felt like stubbing your foot

  on the corner of the table a dozen times over, it was like having

  a cough and not being able to swallow your breath, it was like

  chopping vegetables and cutting your finger, it was sudden,

  painful. i don't know to describe any of this properly but i guess

  i'm doing the best i can given the fact that when you left you

  took all of me with you.

  -c.h.

  succubus

  i’m still waiting

  for the bite marks

  to heal.

  -c.h.

  schoolgirl's lament

  i want to kiss you

  but you like the hard girls

  with rough teeth

  and dry hands

  the wet girls

  with slick tongues

  and untied laces

  the girls who

  suck the life out of you

  like they shotgun cigarette

  smoke into your naked chest

  i know your fingers

  make a mess of her body

  i know your eyes gloss

  and your mouth gapes

  as she makes a mess

  out of you

  she's beautiful

  in a chaotic way

  i will never understand

  i look at my buttoned blouse

  and toothpaste teeth

  and i know

  i am beautiful to some

  but it's just a shame

  i'm not beautiful

  to you

  -c.h.

  i wrote this the day before you left me (i wonder how i knew)

  enough is enough

  is enough

  and i told you

  we couldn't

  but you always said

  we can

  you've always been

  a believer

  in fate and us

  but now

  we've reached the end

  of everything

  you told me

  that you

  loved every part of

  my broken

  soul and that night

  i cried

  enough is enough

  is enough

  we were wrong to

  think otherwise

  because time will always

  run out

  -c.h.

  the poem that got me death threats

  she let him touch her;

  she's a whore!

  but why is it your business,

  what she does behind closed doors?

  she showed some skin,

  such a slut!

  it's simply a shoulder,

  that doesn't spark lust.

  her breasts are covered,

  barely even exposed,

  but you all shame her

  like she's wearing no clothes.

  slut, whore, and skank,

  all unnecessary titles,

  used so frequently,

  we don't see them as vil
e.

  if a girl is unpure and dirty

  because of what she did in bed,

  maybe you should backtrack

  and start looking at his hands instead.

  -c.h.

  in rewind

  after you left,

  i was told

  to try to replay us

  backwards

  because then it's not

  falling apart,

  it's coming together.

  i think that

  us in rewind

  is still just as

  painful

  because it begins

  with you rebuilding me,

  and us being happy

  for a while,

  until one day

  you just forget about me.

  but then again,

  isn't that how it happened,

  anyway?

  -c.h.

  the saddest thing

  in the weeks after,

  i traced my fingers along

  the cracks in the porcelain

  in my heart and i could

  still feel the imprint

  where your hands

  used to rest.

  there are chips missing,

  exposing the bleeding red

  beneath, and i know

  that those pieces

  rest in your pocket.

  of course,

  you had to leave

  with some sort of

  piece of me.

  i'm not angry

  that you took

  a part of my heart.

  i'm just sad,

  because even though

  you have it,

  it won't make us

  any less of strangers.

  -c.h.

  some people will say this is a prostitute (others will be

  reminded of themselves)

  the girl on the corner

  of Main Street waits

  for someone to say

  they need her again

  she has golden hair

  and dull green eyes

  but she is beautiful

  even though she is

  horribly broken

  she spends her nights

  at bars with her

  brittle hands quaking for

  something more than gray

  cigarette smoke and dirty

  sheets with dirty men

  in them

  she aches for you

  and hopes you will come

  back soon but alas

  you have been gone

  for so long and

  gone you shall continue

  to be.

  -c.h.

  i guess this means i'm moving on

  you were here

  and then suddenly

  you were gone

  in the blink of an eye

  i still miss you

  even though i can no longer

  recall the color of your eyes

  or the texture of your hands

  all i know is that

  you loved me

  but you never loved me

  enough

  we were together

  but i've gone

  and forgotten

  the rest.

  -c.h.

  galactic

  you called me a galaxy.

  you played connect the dots with

  the freckles on my arms

  and called them constellations.

  you told me i had stars in my eyes

  and celestial matter in my veins.

  you said falling for me was like

  falling into a black hole;

  endless, exhilarating.

  but your words struck me like meteors,

  and your glare burned me like the sun.

  it occurred to me that, like the moon,

  you were only with me at night,

  and i never saw all of who you were.

  we ended like a supernova,

  in an explosion that was slow and fast

  at the same time.

  -c.h.

  boys i've loved and the end of the world #2

  “they say it’s a solar flare, the biggest one they’ve ever seen,” he

  says with a sigh.

  “are you scared?” i ask.

  he runs his hand through his hair. “i don’t think so. it’s

  inevitable, right?”

  “sure. but aren’t you scared of death?”

  “why would i be? sometimes i try to get there early.” there is a

  smile on his face, but the weight of his words is still so heavy

  in the air.

  “you never take anything seriously,” i mumble, more to myself

  than anything, but he hears me.

  “sure i do. i took you seriously.”

  “but you left.”

  “still. you were my favorite thing,” he says, quietly, as if he is

  afraid of what i’ll do when i hear it.

  “then why did you push me away? after all that time, all those

  memories, and you just… told me to leave.”

  “i was made up of a million mistakes already. i didn’t want you

  to become another one.”

  “but i did anyway, didn’t i?” i press.

  “not exactly. because i let you go, you met him, and you were

  happy. and even though it wasn’t with me, it was… it was

  something, you know? something to feel good about.”

  “so in a way, it was always about me, wasn’t it?”

  he looks at me then, and his blue eyes are sad, like they always

  are.

  “until the end,” he says.

  -c.h

  a poem on how i realized i still love you

  there was something about the way

  you told me you loved me that sounded like a song,

  and it's sad that i never got a chance to memorize it,

  for the melody reminded me of my childhood.

  you were so gentle in the way you treated me

  that it's no wonder you were so gentle in leaving, too.

  i guess you really did mean it

  when you said you'd never try and hurt me.

  i think i'm going to miss you for a very long time.

  and i know i'll be okay,

  but i just wish i could be okay

  with you.

  -c.h.

  the truth

  they say that all love stories end in tragedy. no happy ending lasts forever. in the end, there is only one way out, and you must go it alone. but i thought, for some reason, that you wouldn't leave until you had to. i thought when you said you weren't leaving, you meant it; that you'd keep your promise as long as you could. i thought that you would stay.

  the saddest part is that i know you, and i know what to expect from you when you're broken. i know that when they ask you about me, you'll tell them i was too opposite of you, that my smile held too many secrets and had tasted too many lips. you'll tell them my heart was like ice but my words were like fire, and they burned your skin. you'll tell them i laughed enough for 1,000 drunken men but that i was always laughing at someone else. you'll tell them i'm cold. hard. you'll tell them i left, and you'll say you were glad.

  but you won't tell them how you told me you loved me through tears late at night. you won't tell them that i pulled the stitches from my lips so i could bleed my story into your hands. you won't tell them i wrote you letters, essays on my soul. you won't tell them that you kissed me like i was water and you hadn't drunk in days. you won't tell them i never wanted to leave, you won't say that you were the one who told me it was over. you won't tell them how my heart was ice, but it melted for you.

  when they ask me about you, i will tell them that we said we were in love, and i will tell them you lied.

  they don't need to know anything else.

  -c.h.

  ivory

  i wonder if they notice

/>   how i touch piano keys

  like they can breathe

  -c.h.

  a princess poem

  cinderella, cinderella,

  she lived her life in shame.

  it wasn't until a man saved her

  that she finally tasted fame.

  "rapunzel, rapunzel,

  just let down your hair!"

  Prince Charming is upset,

  he actually needs her help, how unfair!

  belle, belle,

  would have been content with her books,

  but she had to be kidnapped

  to change a man's looks.

  aurora, aurora,

  what kind of curse is this?

  that the only cure is the touch

  of an unknown man's lips?

  snow white, snow white,

  what a housewife you are.

  you're much more than cleaning,

  this role is so subpar.

  princesses, princesses,

  what a repetitive story.

  all about needing a man

  to achieve glory.

  women, women,

  you're not alone.

  no longer do you need a king;

  you can be a queen on your own.

  -c.h.

  i swear one day i'll be able to smile by myself again

  it's hard; not seeing him anymore. i try to remember everything i can, but it's never enough. i can feel the smallest of details, the little things, fading away. i'm reaching, grasping at silver strands of memories as they float away. i want them to come back; i never want to forget him, but he is so far away and he cannot kiss me from where he is. he can't kiss anybody from where he is. the last time i saw him, he looked tired but he smiled anyways; he touched his fingers to my mouth and told me to try my hardest to smile, too. i smiled only because he told me to, only because he made me happy enough for it to not feel stitched on with needles. he was stargazing and fingertips brushing in movies and a time bomb. he was ice cream and a fuse that was lit from the very first day. we were always counting down, there was a clock inside of us and we were just counting down the days. even when it reached zero we never believed that time had actually run out. when i got the phone call, i hung up as soon as i heard the doctor tell me, "i'm sorry," and i grabbed the photos of us on my bedroom wall and held them tight to my chest. pictures don't do him justice, but they are all i have except my tired mind. my mind is always running to find him; i am always trying to find him out there, somewhere. is he happy now? i pray that he is, i pray to a god i don't believe in that if he does one thing for me, it is that he is happy, now. on the worst of days i remember how it felt to kiss him and how he told me to smile. he told me it was okay and even though it never was and never will be, i smile because he told me to.