pollybergen

29 years old

detroit

Female

About

yesterday in years;
I would get a strange feeling,
when a moment would pass and when things cleared out of my mind
and convinced that it was due to a dream.

I dreamt about the first boy I ever french kissed.
I had forgotten that fact until I pressed the issue in my mind,
so I suppose the fact that he entered my dream and infected my day
(once again) is not so absurd.

He was my first love. but loved from afar, for years. Years.
I felt, and hadn't relived what it felt like until last night,
that he was the one for me. the one

We were matched, paired by forces greater.
he was my boyfriend, but only for a short time,
in seventh grade. He broke up with me because of a callous remark regarding sewing. He did it over the phone. Crush.
years.
Secretly, and not so secretly, I pined. Pined. afar then closely. Alphabetically tied,
always at my back, I turned in every class to talk, to smile, to look.
strings from x-ed sticks on the roof CRISS CROSSED the fogged windows of the bus rides home from games, where I was banned to the front, where he got the catbird seat at the emergency exit. Not a moment passed that I didn't want to be in his arms. I had forgotten these feelings until last night.
These strings tied were hormones, I suppose. It was a need, a pain, deep, burdening starvation.
he teased and benefited from my attention.
a reason to wake up, to pretty myself, to study, to do well. To compare answers, to jab, to attempt to touch.
His father would remind me monthly of our past. Re-distribute my achievements, make them frail as foil, easily allowing penetration.
I would make bets on the superbowl, just to have a reason to call him at each quarter's end.
Spent all of my christmas money to purchase the basketball he desired.
offer everything that I didn't have to maintain a reason.
Honed my charms, my hold, my ability to surprise and make him smile.
years.
I had him again, at the moment my lust faded.
He showed a much more intense interest, again.
The most popular boy and I, again, hidden.
By that point, I had cut all my hair off and started hiding my body under maple jeans and hooded sweatshirts. He couldn't be seen with me.

Secret dates, coming
at my house, splayed on his landing.
Studied guise.
I took all of this lightly. I could have his body, but I knew it was fleeting. he just wanted his hold again. but i wanted his figure.
It wasn't until then that the cravings for physicality were
pushing through me, his body. I had forgotten until last night.

He had a cast on, I had a coat on.
I touched his face, he leaned in to kiss me goodbye.
we were in his basement, a shock. after all these years.
I wanted to stay and posses him.
Older, powerful, I wanted to reverse this,
Infect his craving.

I can't say I remember what happened next. Pretend, per usual.
He was admitted to Michigan. And then I was. We made plans to take Ballroom dancing lessons. He decided not to attend. Chose a smaller school with a bigger chance for stardom.

years in a single dream.
in a view of him sleeping, vulnerable in a spare bed,
just pretending again. years back in the downtime of work,
in the bus ride home. and now, recounting.