Recorder

The first time I saw you . . . 

I was greeted by the most unearthly howl

The sound of a thousand jackrabbits being impaled while dragging their nails across a chalkboard

It stopped when

You took your  mouth off the recorder

You know, those plastic Chinese ones that are apparently fundamental to our elementary education

 

Even from across the room I could see your face redden

More crimson than the lipstick you would eventually hide behind

I saw your eyes furtively dart around

To the teacher distracted by my arrival

At the kids playing Hot Cross Buns like the fate of the world depended on it

And then to me

 

Our eyes met and I couldn't keep the grin off my face

I could tell that you knew that I knew

Your eyes narrowed and your bottom lip sunk into a petulant pout of embarrasment

The combination issued a challenge

So, I came and sat next to you

For two weeks

Our fingers and lips raced

Trying our hardest to beat the other at Hot Cross Buns

Madly, feverishly playing until

We realized we hated the song

 

One day, you told me it looked like we were trying to summon Satan

Playing the hellish melody of squeaky notes and saliva stuck in plastic flutes

We laughed, birthing out friendship and our first inside joke

I remember the first time you told me a secret

How you ruined your mom's cherry lipstick while playing, and lied about throwing it away

I rolled my eyes saying "Thats, nothing. Here's what I did"

 

That day we began trafficking secrets

We craved them like the drugs we wished we were cool enough to do

We sold ourselves to each other

Spilling our dirty little souls out with a fervor more terrifying than the sound of Hot Cross Buns

In 3rd grade, you told me about the affairs

How your mom kept moving in and out

In 4th grade, I told you when my parents got divorced

In 6th grade, you told me how they called you a lesbian because of your haircut

In 7th grade, when bullies told you to kill yourself after your mom left

In 8th grade, when my mom commited suicide I told you how it was my fault

In 9th grade, you showed me your scars

In 10th grade, you told me how you were an alcoholic for a while

How you snuck boys into your room

Like I snuck food 

How you and your sister ran over that dog and drove away

And, how you had wanted to kill yourself

But, you were over that

And I beleived you

Because, hey.

You were seeing a counselor right?

Their problem, not mine

 

As time passed, our lifetime of dealing secrets kept us together but pushed us apart

We knew too much about the other

I could see fresh cuts on your wrists

I knew you were fighting something I couldn't see

And something you couldn't touch

Everything I said didn't seem like enough

I didn't know how to drive these devils out of you

And I'm sorry I didn't care more

Until it was too late

You are possesed by these demons now

Trapped in a prison both you and I can't find the key for

You are nothing but a hollow shell

 

I left you chasing escape along the scars on your wrists

I left you playing Hot Cross Buns to a deaf world

Trying to summon the devil with your recorder

A cry for help that I ignored

Comments

tiraluv

So so so deep! Man!

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