Too Much Pepper

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

Submitted: August 04, 2018

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Submitted: August 04, 2018



This is your part of my story

the part where you were the main character and I the confused narrator, like nick in the great gatsby.

The part where I found you and lost myself, and found us both somehow, colder than before

this is the kind of story an old person tells their teenage grandkid

to let them know that love will both conquer and destroy you

before you realise it saved you, too.


We met once in a memory that feels like a dream you barely remember

in shades of gray and blue and green, a conversation I forgot and then tried to reach again

just to grasp every moment ever spent with you

two shy people out of place in ourselves,

out of place at a festival,

out of place in a forest,

out of place in a city


we ate soup

and listened to old drums

and snuck off into the dusk in the cold

to be warm under amber lights and liquids in small places I will never forget


to be against you felt like a dream of a past life

you have no idea where you are or who you are but it feels familiar

and you know just what to do

and somehow it seems like the most at home you have felt since you lost yourself

and I threw myself off

into sharing with you every piece I could carve from inside my skull

in the hope of pasting them to your skin and understanding who I was


I discovered you relatively

within my self and my lens

and then saw your aurora and your antimatter and I love them equally

it isnt your fault it isnt my fault it isnt your fault right it isnt

it isnt necessary to go into the pieces that tore us apart

it is it is it is you cant leave it out

we died there

we screamed

you screamed and screamed

I cant get it out of my head now

its stuck in my ears and my lungs

by contracted kisses

stuck stuck stuck stuck



you stuck

like tacky super glue and just couldnt come off me

and I didnt mind a bit

all I wanted was for every adventure I ever had to be stuck to your memory

like each memorised curl of hair

I imagined your wrinkled face in my liverspotted hand

and the way the sunset would look in your white hair

and I never wanted to live as much as I wanted it with you

I was never unafraid to fall or to jump or to live past all my plans in your light and your darkness


I wish selfishly that I could rewind to myself before we happened to eachother,

and be a worse person, happy in my naiveté.

You have been the destroyer angel in my exodus as a man.

You are Lillith, who Adam loved more than Eve,

for lighting a terrible fire in a man’s heart will always be more than a rib taken into being


I owe you and you owe me and I hope we both owe eachother forever

because I never want to stop knowing who you are

this is the jagged curling tapering end of a violently colorful masterpiece

and you are the hopeful highlight on every face I will ever paint

and every demon in every sultry eyes


you emptied me to fill yourself back up because you could because I let you

because you deserve it

I am empty and you are awful and I am awful

and we set ourselves on fire practically out of boredom

but did we have much choice?


Did I choose the magic I felt

with your fingers against broken rainbows and you crushed them to music

or the frost sparkle crunch at two am

or the moss in your hair in the place my soul was born

and I live and die in those moments anyway

I could not forget

I could not let go of the shattered magic you smashed into my skin

or all the small sequins in your eyes

I couldnt

I wont

please dont


I hope you remember the cold and the sequins

more than you remember beige carpet and screaming

and you dont forget a candles reflection in a half moon glass window

and a plastic bouquet over garlick bread

dont forget leaving the window open to feel our warmth better

dont forget broccoli with way too much pepper

dont forget holding hands in front of a cedar tree

dont forget sunflower seeds in a motel

dont forget 3am carresses

dont forget me

© Copyright 2019 J L Smith. All rights reserved.

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