Traitor

I think everyone goes through that angsty teenager phase, where everything is so intense and everything matters SO MUCH and nothing will EVER be the same ever again now that your best friend told that one guy that you think he's hot. Right? Yeah. I had it bad. And I swore back then that I'd never laugh at my teenage self, and that I'd remember how it all felt and how utterly horrible all that unrequited love was. I remember creating entire relationships in my head based on one conversation with a guy, and how devastated I was when he started dating someone. And how I just knew I'd never get over it, and never love again.

That being said..... I was cleaning out our second bedroom the other day and ran across my most recent book of poems. So I sat down and read them. Needless to say, most of them are pure trash. I can still feel the sentiment behind them, though, and I see what I was trying to do, so they're still a little to close to my heart to laugh at. But then I pulled out my poems from highschool. Forgive me, my poor, heartbroken 16-year-old self, but I laughed and groaned and blushed all the way through them. So here, for your amusement, is one of my - ahem - gems. For quite a while I considered this my best poem. Inspired by a lotta lotta Cure songs and a boy that looked like Robert Smith, I actually titled this one "Untitled!" Let the laughter begin.

Silently, slowly, she walks to the river
And stands at its edge - for now and forever.
The wind whips her hair, her garments of white
And in her left hand the blade of a knife.
In the darkeing night mist mingles with tears
And her eyes look back on the torturous years.
"They don't understand, they don't care!" she cries
As she holds up the blade in front of her eyes
And sees her reflection so twisted, so cold
The despair in the face that has not yet grown old.
They won't ever see the suffering and pain
The heartache that played out an empty refrain
The sadness, rejection, deceit and betrayal
The far-away echoes of a love that had failed.
So forsaken by life that death seemed a friend,
She lowered the blade to bring life to an end
And choked back a sob and stifled a thought
As he came to her mind and tore at her heart.
She paused for a moment to bid him goodbye
And then lifted her wrist to the dome of the sky.
She watched as the knife slid and severed the vein
And cried out in defeat as her life slipped away.
1/17/93

School psychologist's dream, right? This poem was actually the turning point where my writing went from pretty and light to seriously dark. It was followed closely by blank verses with the enchanting titles "Alone," "Dead," "Prayers for Death," and "Innocence Burning." Yuck. My parents probably should have had me under constant surveillance! But it all turned out okay in the end....I think.....