You're a poet? Your mind must be so fucked up | Poetry.

love elio

I liked you. And you fucking knew it.
I liked you from the start, all the way back in September 2016 when we first met in a park and you made jokes about things I'd never been exposed to and it was exciting because I was 14 and I wanted a girl to like me in the same way I'd thought was wrong for all the years of my Catholic upbringing.
You were 13 and you were the kind of person I wanted to be; confident, intimidating, but in the best way that made the butterflies go, a way that only you could make me feel. Your knee would touch mine and I'd feel like infinity.

We met a month later, on Halloween, where we went with all our friends around random houses and got told we were too old to trick or treat. One of your friends told me you liked me and that was the only time I've seen you go shy.
You wouldn't look at me, and I could tell it was because you were embarrassed but so was I and that's what made it okay. Our friends asked me if I liked you and I didn't reply but they knew I did.

Yet then you disappeared for a year and got yourself a girlfriend.

It was fun at first. It gave me a high that no one else had cared enough to give me and I liked it because I thought you cared about me.
And maybe it was because you'd just broken up with your last girlfriend and you needed some kind of shoulder to cry on and I was willing to let my t-shirt soak through with your tears.
Maybe that's why we became close, because there would be nights you'd tease me and I'd want you in my bed but you'd mention her and then I would cry because you never seemed to fucking get over her.
So you'd snapchat me whilst you cried because you missed her so much and I would reply with words that meant nothing except they comforted you and that was all you seemed to need.
Which was all I needed. You to be happy and just keep me up all night whining about her because it made me feel needed and no one had ever made me feel like that before.

And one night, you'd had a night of self love and shaved everywhere and you told me how soft you felt and how you were wet. And I didn't know what to do so I made a comment that it was because you'd just gotten out of the shower.
You sent me a video of two girls kissing, one lay above the other, telling me how hot it was, and I couldn't help but compare how much we looked like those girls.

On New Year's Eve we brought in the new year together and I didn't get to stay the whole night but before i left, you looked at me with that fucking smirk and asked me if I'd fuck you.
I remember laughing nervously and telling you no, I was a good catholic girl. And I was, but you made me want to be anything but, be the serpent but look like the innocent flower.

But you have cold feet. Where I wanted to wait and just wallow in the feeling of liking a person, you were always trying to move us on. I'd never fucked anyone but if you'd asked I would have bent over backwards and let you do anything to me.
And you fucking knew I'd do anything for you. You knew I'd hurt everyone around me if it made you happy. So you'd leave me waiting an hour between snapchats, leave me waiting days for conversations. You'd never defend me when your friends teased me for liking you though we never made it official, even if that night you'd call me baby girl and I'd call you daddy and maybe it was stupid but it was lust and for the first time in my life I wanted to let someone touch me.

I was warned so many times, by people who knew you ten times better than I did, but I never took notice of anyone's opinion except yours. You nearly tore me away from one of my closest friends and I would have let you.

please just fucking disappear and let me cry over every song that makes me think of you until it gets easier.

- elio to your oliver