The fault in our stars

poetic_star's picture

*title belongs to John Green.*

You were a questionable night and strong arms;
coffee ground eyes and marijuana-coated lips
turned up in a cute twenty-four hour smirk.
You and I were shoe boxes filled with
boy-meets-boy hormones wrapped
tight in the construction paper summer before college.
Neither of us knew what was really
going on when we kissed passionately on your couch
the afternoon of Thanksgiving.
And before I could explain my feelings,
you fell asleep with your head on my chest,
so I just ran my fingers through your
goldenrod blond hair and thought about
how I'd scribbled our initials
inside little magenta hearts
on the wall of the restroom at the gym
where they beat and breathed dry paint constantly.

You were not the human condition,
my friend, but an impossible idea I had in my head;
one where we read Whitman out
loud and did that same delicious,
frightening thing again and again.

Instead, honey, we smoked cigarettes
until we coughed silver moonbeams
and stretched out on cemetery
grass under luckless stars.
We rolled around in your
bedroom while your mom
wrote checks in the kitchen
and Madonna cried on the radio.

I buried my face in your
flaming hot June pillow
and you pressed down
hard on my shoulders,
grinding a fragmented
paradise into my naked body
under your superman sheets.
Baby, you asked me between
groans if it felt nice to
crumble so thoroughly
and I couldn't tell you the truth;
that I did get excited,
imagining you swimming in my
parents' pool with only a few
lights sparkling on
your athletic form
because that would've given
you the power to
damage me further.
I kept quiet, then,
through the waves
of glitter pain and
gory pink euphoria.

Honey, it's dangerous to
believe that a person is
more than a person and
that's where I went wrong with you.
Whispering your forbidden name
in the creepy silence,
I figured it was just
like making a wish
and that you would
finally stop hurting me and just
listen or feel something other
than your own self-hatred.

But that didn't happen
because you decided
to off yourself with beer
and a good-for-nothing
steering wheel spinning
out of control only a few
blocks away from my
dozing Sunday neighborhood.
As much as I wanted answers
and hated your mood swings,
I couldn't stop sobbing because
what we had was just as morbid
as the look you gave me
when I said I loved you.
It didn't mean anything..

That's the fault here, baby;
the tongue-in-cheek
realization that you
didn't exist outside
of the photograph
of the handsome
quarterback that
I had in my mind.
In reality, you were terrified
by our casual hand-holding
and rushed apologies on the phone.
Rain-less Mondays will always
haunt me now with the gritty
sound of your voice echoing
in the passenger seat of my car.
Rest in peace, friend/secret
lover /whatever you were..

Comments

Bosemaster42's picture

I love it!

This is exciting, sad, beautiful wording etc. Made me think of an old friend(with benefits) I had several years ago, who perished in a stupid, needless car accident. Thank you.

poetic_star's picture

No, thank you for the

No, thank you for the positive comment :D

ElsaGabor's picture

You never disappoint,

Every poem is just so good!

poetic_star's picture

aww! *hug* thanks, sweetie

aww! *hug* thanks, sweetie :)

ElsaGabor's picture

Anytime :)

Anytime :)

Dracofangxxx's picture

LOVE JOHN GREEN <3

Love the references, too. Beautiful as usual.
-
That's redick!

poetic_star's picture

thanks :)

thanks :)