Fickle.
That word never meant anything to me until I broke the heart of the boy I loved.
Twice I broke his heart, and fickle was my excuse.
I was not fickle when the freshman
A year younger than I
met me at the gazebo near the lake
Where the wind had not yet picked up.
I sat coolly on the railing, my right leg dangling in the tall grass
He approached me cautiously and I took his lips
knowing he would surrender them to me.
Knowing I had caught his heart
and I have yet to know what that means.
To hold a heart so tenderly in your hands
the slightest word can pierce the muscle
What a cruel girl I was to ignore him
when he approached me days later.
There was another boy that felt me up
in the dewy field.
It felt nice for a moment
Then I was done
Done with him
On to a new adventure.
Because holding a heart in your hands is too heavy
and it was better to let it go.
"You don't owe me anything," he said nonchalantly
over the phone
His voice reduced to a monotonous whisper.
To feel your heart beat fast,
your breath quicken and salt-water
well up in your eyes means something right?
Frantically I searched the Web
Depression does reduce your sexuality
Does suppress your libido
Either that or makes you want it more
Which one am I?
Who has the answers?
I want to keep searching for the answers
Because
Life is not short
Life is long
because it goes on forever
And ever and ever and ever
