Heart On Fire
Edwin Levine, you set my heart on fire.
When I wrote those words in Edwin’s yearbook last year, it was supposed to be a joke. I didn’t do it to be mean, and I certainly didn’t think he’d ever figure out it was me who wrote it. It was just a spur of the moment thing – designed to get a laugh out of Cece, my ex-best friend, who found the book lying on the bleachers after junior assembly. Edwin Levine’s yearbook? Way too tempting to pass up. Edwin was… a legend. A name we heard over the intercom for detention twice a week. The guy who invented ugly sexy. The epitome of bad news. I mean, really. Looking back, how could I have been so stupid? I’ve gone over it in my head a million times – how different things might have turned out for both of us if I’d have just told Cece to screw off, put the book down, and walked away.
I might be able to sleep at night.
I might have a normal relationship by now, instead of having the impression that every perfectly nice guy I meet is a sheltered little boy.
I might be a lot less fucked up.
But then I never would have known how high a real fire could burn if you threw gasoline on it. And I never, never would have known about that dark needy place inside myself. The part that still misses him, still hungers for his touch, still wants to take care of him and make everything okay, even after every sick thing he did.
When I wrote those words in Edwin’s yearbook last year, it was supposed to be a joke. I didn’t do it to be mean, and I certainly didn’t think he’d ever figure out it was me who wrote it. It was just a spur of the moment thing – designed to get a laugh out of Cece, my ex-best friend, who found the book lying on the bleachers after junior assembly. Edwin Levine’s yearbook? Way too tempting to pass up. Edwin was… a legend. A name we heard over the intercom for detention twice a week. The guy who invented ugly sexy. The epitome of bad news. I mean, really. Looking back, how could I have been so stupid? I’ve gone over it in my head a million times – how different things might have turned out for both of us if I’d have just told Cece to screw off, put the book down, and walked away.
I might be able to sleep at night.
I might have a normal relationship by now, instead of having the impression that every perfectly nice guy I meet is a sheltered little boy.
I might be a lot less fucked up.
But then I never would have known how high a real fire could burn if you threw gasoline on it. And I never, never would have known about that dark needy place inside myself. The part that still misses him, still hungers for his touch, still wants to take care of him and make everything okay, even after every sick thing he did.
3 comments:
Interesting hook. :-)
What is this from?
It's my new project. Pesky voices wouldn't shut up until I wrote what they were saying down, you know?
It's good when the voices are yapping. Better than silence. :)
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