a boy sang a little hallelujah on his guitar. fingered the strings, he spoke the words so softly. was he bad or good? i can’t tell you now, i couldn’t tell you then. but he played, and he sang. and he was passionate for something. and i saw it in his eyes. eyes like black holes. like the night. his name was sky. and he kissed me. i was eighteen then. it should have been sooner. it would have been better later. an accident. but it was.

and i’m so sorry now that i acted like it didn’t matter to me. but i thought about it for so long. i cried myself to sleep.

i dreamt of a field and a sunset and kiss that lasted forever but seconds. like fireworks and butterflies. like what i thought i deserved. a thought that ruined my mind for so long. because through his lips, perfection could no longer be reached for me. because this was not on purpose.

i was never this way. easy? never. i was a princess. a little girl in waiting. a precious rose longing to be picked first. chosen by the right guy, at the right time, with the right face, and the right background and he would probably be my prince charming. my hero. but now i pretend like all that doesn’t matter. because it’s easier than admitting that i fucked up. that i lost it all. because i didn’t want to wait. because i wanted something right now.

so i got my right now. i got a million kisses that didn’t mean anything to me, and a dozen that didn’t mean anything to them. i got a rose from a boy who already had a girl. the only rose i’ve ever gotten. i got date with a married man. i have boys in different places, wondering if i get off thinking about how i used them.

he walked out.  and they sang… there goes my hero.

i’ve never received a phone call the morning after. and this is an accident? no. i can’t blame this, i let this happen now.

i don’t mean to use. i feel used. but why would i EVER admit that? ever. i’m too cool. too unaffected. too easy. too loveless. i will die a lonely girl because i can’t admit to him that i actually like him. and when i kiss him, i feel something. and when he touches me i feel lightning up my spine. and when i see his face, i can’t talk at all.

this too shall pass. and i will let it. because to let him know that i am girl who loves. who still has a little passion left in her voice to sing a little hallelujah while she watches him play it on the guitar. even if he can’t play. she won’t know, won’t care. like he can do nothing wrong. like she would be willing to start this again. like maybe before he kissed her for nothing. like maybe we could all rewind. and then maybe we’d end up on purpose.