Creative Writing

Green apples


You remind me of green apples.
You tasted sweet and left me feeling
I felt you on my lips, my tongue, and I couldn’t get you off my mind for hours.

You counted all my birthmarks and remembered the number.
You found ones I didn’t know I had.
You’d kiss them because you didn’t want my former lovers to have the “last laugh”

I can draw yours on a map of the human body.

You carved your mark into my body.
Into my soul.
I count the marks every now and then.
I remember the sweetness,
I forget the sour.
My pupils dilated, I touch the places where you claimed me.

I forget the pain,
I remember the pleasure.
Eventually, the two blended together.

You took me anywhere you wanted me –
The tub,
Movie theatre bathroom,

Anyone I got with in the aftermath I pretended it was us,
With a happy ending,
But we weren’t happy.

“Perfectly imperfect”.

I spit up blood into the water while I told you how much I loved you.
You told me if I ever thought about it again you’d kill me.
I believed you.
I wanted you to.
I practiced holding my breath for you.

An act of such passion-
Such fire-
It was love to me.

I’ll admit- I miss it.
My blood tastes different when you gave it to me.
When I tasted it alone, I wanted to feel something.

It doesn’t taste like green apples.

It doesn’t taste like you.

I want it to.

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