First Crush
The son of my parents’ friends. Older and so cool. My first kiss stolen during the game of hide and seek we were playing to indulge younger brothers. Giggles and butterflies. Until I noticed you talking to the adults. A look of horror creeping over your face, only for a second but long enough to understand. You didn’t break my heart then. You had just been told.
I was eleven.
And you lost all interest.
You didn’t want to learn. You wanted to act and make music. You still stopped by often and sang for me. Making up your own songs. Laughter and sweet memories. You were ‘done’ with school, I was just starting. You talked about getting a job at a hotel. You were fluent in six languages. Language was my nemesis. You didn’t break my heart then.
I was twelve.
And you were my friend.
Bumping into each other at the McDonald’s. Sharing a large fries. We talked about music and movies. You got a gig in a band, playing for tourists. You took a picture of me to keep in your wallet. You gave me one of yours. We were good friends. You didn’t break my heart then.
I was thirteen.
And you were just not that kind of guy.
Meeting up in the dance club. I was not supposed to be there, but the bouncer didn’t know that. Tearing up the dance floor. You got me a beer, but made sure I wouldn’t get drunk. You kept me safe. Making up stories about the people in the club. You didn’t break my heart then.
I was fourteen.
And you were acting like my big bro.
New school, new guys, new phase of life. We didn’t keep that much contact. We got news through our parents. We were both in love, just not with each other. You didn’t break my heart then.
I was fifteen.
And you were starting a family with a baby on the way.
Things didn’t work out the way you expected. Your new family broke apart. And finally, after all those years, you broke my heart. Shattered my world to a million pieces. Tears about what was and what could have been. Had time been kinder to us, maybe...
I was sixteen.
And you were dead.
