Status: based on the song 'once upon a time' from the poop opera bare.
Once Upon a Time
bare
Once upon a time I first held your hand and love was not a crime. Once upon a time I first held your gaze and love was mystified. Once upon a time I first gave you my thoughts and you held your voice through it all. Once upon a time... once... once upon a time...
No, that's not how it begins.
It's not a 'once upon a time', but a 'once, two years ago'. We had class together and it was as cold as the Winter could get and your breath swirled in front of your pale lips until you lifted your hands, cupping them to exhale a breath and keep them warm. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the thought of your lips on my own hands but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, two years ago, I was naive and alone even though I was surrounded by people, and Father Tracy talked really loud whenever he mentioned God's wrath. I remember you snickering on the back, with the collar of your uniform shirt open and that friend of yours laughing beside beside you until Father Tracy told you two that you'd both go to hell. I remember your wide eyes, your glacial smirk, the bruise blossoming underneath your left eye, high on your cheekbone, darker than the previous day. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the thought of someone hurting you like I knew they did but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, barely two years ago, I found you sitting in the snow, red-nosed, sobbing into a letter where your sister's death was news and the date went back to when you were barely eleven. I remember your voice. I remember what you said, the words that spilled from your pale, pale, bluish lips and those green pools of mirth turning sour and stormy. I remember the cold touch of your hand and the cold touch of your hair against my cheek. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the thought of doing this when you were happier and inside the sheets of my bed, on my dorm, when Garret was out, but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, a year and a half ago, you watched me in the library. Your hair was long, falling over your eyes, auburn and soft and thin like one of a fae's. I remember that soft smile you had as I finished my essay and the smack Mother Lila gave you on the back of the head when you refused to acknowledge the call of your name. You were just watching me and I was blushing harder and harder until you told me I was beautiful in the way only angels could be. I remember mumbling. I remember you smiling. I remember the brush of your warm, calloused hand against mine under the table where no one could see and I tried so, so hard to push away the thought of your hands underneath my uniform shirt but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, a year ago, you kissed me. I remember the crying, all the tears I shed as your lips touched mine in the most wonderful and horrendous of the ways. I remember the guilt, how dirty I felt, how roughly I shoved you away before anyone could see us. I remember screaming at you about God, about angels, about His wrath and my parents and Father Tracy and what would his sister think of him? What would God think of us? I remember trying to push away, the thought of what would it be if God really did find two boys in one of His sanctuaries kissing as if being in love wasn't the worst of the sins they'd ever done but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, about seven months ago, I returned your kiss. And it was splendid, burning and searing and I remember your quiet thoughts bubbling from your precious mouth as you taught me all the ways I could love your body and hate my God. I remember the feel of you against me, how lithe, how warm, how soft. I remember the bumps on your back where scars crossed like the bark of a tree. I remember crying again. I remember it like it was yesterday, the three words that ruined me like none had ever done. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the swell I felt inside my ribcage, but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, four months ago, I remember falling to my knees in Notre Dame when no one was there. I remember the emptyness of the cathedral, the sound of the summer rain, the wetness in my clothes and my hair. I remember the stained glass in front of me, barely letting any sunlight inside, like it had been shut off from me. I remember bowing my head, I remember crying so hard my throat began to burn. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the thought of God crying like me above the clouds, wondering why I had turned out like this, but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once upon a time, all I needed was his hand in mine. Once upon a time, I took the guilt marking me and poured it inside a bath where red tinted everything as I stepped inside. Once upon a time, you banged on the door and cried loudly for me to stop. Once upon a time, I sinned to keep you from ever seeing your sister again.
Once upon a time, I first held your hand.
And love, in His eyes, was not a crime.
No, that's not how it begins.
It's not a 'once upon a time', but a 'once, two years ago'. We had class together and it was as cold as the Winter could get and your breath swirled in front of your pale lips until you lifted your hands, cupping them to exhale a breath and keep them warm. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the thought of your lips on my own hands but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, two years ago, I was naive and alone even though I was surrounded by people, and Father Tracy talked really loud whenever he mentioned God's wrath. I remember you snickering on the back, with the collar of your uniform shirt open and that friend of yours laughing beside beside you until Father Tracy told you two that you'd both go to hell. I remember your wide eyes, your glacial smirk, the bruise blossoming underneath your left eye, high on your cheekbone, darker than the previous day. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the thought of someone hurting you like I knew they did but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, barely two years ago, I found you sitting in the snow, red-nosed, sobbing into a letter where your sister's death was news and the date went back to when you were barely eleven. I remember your voice. I remember what you said, the words that spilled from your pale, pale, bluish lips and those green pools of mirth turning sour and stormy. I remember the cold touch of your hand and the cold touch of your hair against my cheek. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the thought of doing this when you were happier and inside the sheets of my bed, on my dorm, when Garret was out, but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, a year and a half ago, you watched me in the library. Your hair was long, falling over your eyes, auburn and soft and thin like one of a fae's. I remember that soft smile you had as I finished my essay and the smack Mother Lila gave you on the back of the head when you refused to acknowledge the call of your name. You were just watching me and I was blushing harder and harder until you told me I was beautiful in the way only angels could be. I remember mumbling. I remember you smiling. I remember the brush of your warm, calloused hand against mine under the table where no one could see and I tried so, so hard to push away the thought of your hands underneath my uniform shirt but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, a year ago, you kissed me. I remember the crying, all the tears I shed as your lips touched mine in the most wonderful and horrendous of the ways. I remember the guilt, how dirty I felt, how roughly I shoved you away before anyone could see us. I remember screaming at you about God, about angels, about His wrath and my parents and Father Tracy and what would his sister think of him? What would God think of us? I remember trying to push away, the thought of what would it be if God really did find two boys in one of His sanctuaries kissing as if being in love wasn't the worst of the sins they'd ever done but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, about seven months ago, I returned your kiss. And it was splendid, burning and searing and I remember your quiet thoughts bubbling from your precious mouth as you taught me all the ways I could love your body and hate my God. I remember the feel of you against me, how lithe, how warm, how soft. I remember the bumps on your back where scars crossed like the bark of a tree. I remember crying again. I remember it like it was yesterday, the three words that ruined me like none had ever done. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the swell I felt inside my ribcage, but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once, four months ago, I remember falling to my knees in Notre Dame when no one was there. I remember the emptyness of the cathedral, the sound of the summer rain, the wetness in my clothes and my hair. I remember the stained glass in front of me, barely letting any sunlight inside, like it had been shut off from me. I remember bowing my head, I remember crying so hard my throat began to burn. I remember trying so hard to push it away, the thought of God crying like me above the clouds, wondering why I had turned out like this, but it seems I wasn't trying hard enough.
Once upon a time, all I needed was his hand in mine. Once upon a time, I took the guilt marking me and poured it inside a bath where red tinted everything as I stepped inside. Once upon a time, you banged on the door and cried loudly for me to stop. Once upon a time, I sinned to keep you from ever seeing your sister again.
Once upon a time, I first held your hand.
And love, in His eyes, was not a crime.