my first love had bright blue eyes that were just as cold as he was. we would hold each others hands and walk around town for hours, because that’s all there was to do when we were 15. i taught him ukulele and we would sit in the field behind his house on a haybale, he would play, i would sing, while the sun set. he read me bible verses and the way he spoke made me believe in god, just because of how much he did. he would sleep until 3pm every day of the summer and i’d wait by the phone for him to wake up like his little dog waiting to be fed.
my second love played guitar so beautifully it would bring me to tears. we would get high together every weekend. blow the smoke out of his bedroom window while his parents slept down the hall. stay up for hours giggling and sharing stoned kisses and all our secrets. he loved the forest, wanted to be buried raw in the dirt. he would take me out to his camp in the woods and we’d sit there in the quiet until the sun started to set through the trees. he taught me how to start a fire. i was meant to marry him. be buried in the dirt with him. he showed me what it was to really love.
my third love burned as bright red as his curls. he showed me what it meant to be obsessed. he had a missing front tooth and he hated it but he had the sweetest smile. he was always smiling. our jobs were down the street from each other and one time we met up on our lunch breaks and walked hand in hand swinging to his place and as quick as possible fucked and showered. i remember running back to work so i wouldn’t be late, looking backwards to yell “i love you”. we spent three months in his frat house smoking and laughing and fucking and crying. i don’t remember much, i was in a haze from all the drugs. but i remember how beautiful he looked when he slept. and how i knew not a month after meeting him i would have given up everything for him. i see him at the grocery store now and i still love him.