I was eight when I met him. Sixteen when we met again. I didn't know I loved him. I never go to tell him. I doubt he ever knew.
Maybe I knew. Maybe that's what made me fight. Fight him. Fight what I felt for him.
I fought the way he made me feel. The way the thought of him still makes me feel. I loved him.
I tried, in my way, not to. I think it made him love me more. I admit I saw love in his eyes-
and it terrified me.
He made my heart do things.
Race. Being around him sometimes made my body ache with desire to touch him. I wanted to fall down and admit what and how he made me feel.
but I didn't know it's name. I didn't know I loved him. He was a street kid when I meet him again, but all I could see was that kind little boy, who said he would always be my friend.
By the time I had turned eight as a kid we had moved a couple of times, so me and my brothers were the "new kids".
My Love didn't care, I was just someone new to play with. I was so shy. Always so shy. Still shy. He tried to bring me out of my shell. I tried to bring him into my imagination by sharing books I loved.
But eight year olds don't know about soul mates. I didn't know then he might be mine.
I don't know, now if you can get another. I don't think anyone else can compare to what I had so briefly.
My very soul was on fire. You can't compare a singe to a flame and be satisfied. I can't be satisfied if I can't love like I loved him.
A love so simple and sweet you don't even realize how deep your in it. So strong you never forget it. And so brief you spend the rest of your life trying to find it again.
My Love was something special. when I was sixteen and he was fifteen we went to a teen dance club. His brothers and sister, and my brothers went too.
I played all the games, ate snacks, but was scared to dance. He wanted me to dance. I tried to hide inside my own skin. He wouldn't give up.
He made me dance. It was fun. We danced together. It was easy. It was too easy, I thought it wasn't love.
But I was so in love, I didn't know.
I didn't know I loved him.
My Love, he was a street kid, and I could only see that. I could never see past that. I tried not to love him, I told him I couldn't be his girl, but I was his girl in my heart. I wanted him to stop. He didn't.
My Love found another girl. I hated her. He broke my heart. I cried. How could I ever admit I loved him. I stopped talking to him. My heart hurt.
Day one, no talking.
He came by. He talked to my brothers. He stayed with them in the house. I wouldn't talk to him.
I saw him in school with her.
My heart hurt. We didn't talk.
He pulls me to the side. He talks, I won't. He gets angry. I say why. He doesn't understand.
My heart hurts.
I write a poem.
I miss him.
It hurts to much. I give up. He comes over. We talk. We fight. I cry.
He wants a girl. I want to be his girl. I won't be the girl of a street kid.
He won't stop being a street kid. My heart hurts. He leaves. I tell my little brother I care for My Love, but he knows I love him.
My little brother says if I care for My Love I should tell him, but I'm scared.
My Love won't talk to me, it's been two days.
My Love still won't talk to me, it's been three days. I miss him.
My heart hurts. I cave.
I walk down the path to My Love's house. I ask him to walk me to the store, he does. We don't talk all the way there. My heart hurts.
We walk back towards my house. We take the long way. We stop a block before my house. We can see the big tree.
He tells me he and girl broke up. I smile. He smiles. I ask him if there was a reason. He says I know the reason.
I'm sixteen, he's fifteen. He's a street kid. I'm a good girl. I'm his girl.
My dad can't know. I love him, I think I might love him, I never wan him to go.
We sneak looks. We secretly kiss. My little brother knows. He won't tell. He wants me to be careful. I try.
We creep off to the park alone. I ask him if he would stop being a street kid. He says he wants to try. My heart is scared for him. I don't know why. No one else knows.
I will never tell.
There is no week four.
My father wants to move.
He wants to go to Deerfield?
I don't want to go. Me and my dad fight.
I lose. I am moved.
My heart breaks. I don't get to say goodbye. I cry for a week. Only my little brother knows why.
I never speak to My love again. I never get to hear his voice one last time.
I hear two weeks later he's back with girl. I am angry. My heart hurts. I still loved him.
We stay in Deerfield almost a year. I write myspace notes to My Love, but not often. My heart still hurts. I didn't know why. I still loved him.
My little brother gets a call from My Love's brother. My Love was killed. I don't believe him. I can't believe him. I black it out.
I ask him again two days later if it's true. It is. My soul hurts.