My First High

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 16, 2016

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Submitted: August 16, 2016



My first high was your hand clasped in mine, and peering into those bright blue eyes.

"Remember I am yours and you are mine", as time scurries by.

Not once were the minutes fair to us.

Never miss a chance to say I love and miss you so very much, because I have learned not to take love for granted.

I heard that it is real and I do not want you to feel the way that I did.

My first high took me back to a two a.m. morning, when the moonlight bounced off an eleven year old girl balancing shimmery gold skull candy's as the bass boomed through a newly purchased Re-up CD.

Even though she felt all alone, the music made her feel alive.

But, you would never know this because you could not see her with hazy smoke constantly in your eyes.

You were her favorite track always set on repeat.

Wait, press rewind so she can hear the regret in your voice when she calls you because she misses the sound for the last time.

Thus, the beat is becoming a strange silence.

Did she fail to see that disheartened change in your smile?

My first high made me an anxious wreck and as it dwindled away, it became a wheezy suffocation.

She should have known the song was ending, because you never promised to stay.

But, no one ever tells you how to handle a love that always runs away.

One comment, an off day, brings this melody to a halt.

Today I am cleaning my closet filled with "I will be betters" and as I look in the mirror, I cannot see that eleven year old girl with beautiful sparkling brown eyes.

In fact, I do not feel gorgeous at all.

Left to obsess over every inch of flesh and an urge to throw up anything consumed.

You used to make me feel ten foot tall, but now the hall ways are crowded and I forgot how to laugh.

Oh there goes your pride, and there goes my confidence as you spit mockery.

swore to myself that I would not feel this way again.

I do not want to hold an unfamiliar hand.

Instead a fist full of whiskey and a bottle of pills occupy my palms.

I do not think I can be enough for you.

I am so sorry that I am not as dazzling as her.

If this is love than why are tears still streaming down my face?

Raging, heaving pain pouring from my stomach to my lungs.

You went and left me all alone.

Found someone new and he feels like home, but he is not you.

Music just does not sound the same anymore.

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