Prince AliA Poem by NotaBene A poem for a friend I dated all of 3 weeks when I was fifteen.
I don't know how to describe our relationship, after all you were my first.
Not the first between my thighs, but the first to say kind words. instead of the usual screams and shouts, you spoke in a melody well versed. as if your voice could be a symphony, with every line rehearsed. and I can still re-trace ever inch of you, across caramel brown skin on the carpet of your bedroom. Thank you for teaching me that not all men were something to be feared. that I didn't have to flinch whenever one came near. but that they could be gentle, kind, and sincere. and I know, you didn't know that the eccentrics were just a mask and that I would have been willing to show you the real me, had you of only asked. because even though it was torture, I'm sure it would have eventually passed. even though the wounds were beyond skin deep and vast but you see, I was afraid. Though you couldn't see the scars, I came to you broken and scathed with towering walls, and unrelenting barricades. my home life was a habitual tirade where tyranny fell if I even thought to disobey, but you were a ray of sunshine in a long rolling storm. even if you didn't know the bruises I was hiding that were painted across my arms. and I recall the cords that adorned your high school uniform. and the awards that danced upon your dresser drawers. and though I knew you through a hard time filled with constant misery, it may not have been love, but you were part of my history. and my only regret is that I never let you in, because it might mean showing you the black blue and green that were etched into my skin. and telling you I wasn't living the life, that I should have been. and I guess I didn't think you'd understand. why I didn't feel like I could love a man. whether he be from America, Africa, or Pakistan. so just let me go ahead and thank you again, for being a positive standard for me, that I can judge all men. but above all else, just for being a friend. because that was all I needed during those times, and I cherish the thought of your arms wrapped around mine, and two foolish adolescents trying not to cross boundary lines. and the scent of freshly laid pavement and Australian pine. or unrealistic dreams, on car rides to our local dairy queen. with long trench coats and gloves, with tightly fitted jeans. and just reminiscing on how exciting it seemed to be fifteen.
© 2014 NotaBeneReviews
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