Speckle of Our Words
Comments 6

Heartbreak Chronicles

Chapter one

my clearest memory happened last fall.

I remember it like the ending of my favorite book,

perfectly etched into my mind.

word for word clear as the day it happened.

it starts with you driving down my driveway.

you tried getting out of your beat up mustang, but I beat you to the car.

I knew you could tell I spent extra time getting ready.

why did I spend extra time getting ready?

all week it felt like my brain was a cassette player

and I was obsessed with my new tape.

it’d play on a loop for hours and hours.

rewind, stop, play: we’re just friends.

                  rewind, stop, play: we’re just friends.

                                            rewind, stop, play: we’re just friends.

my head knew it,

I knew it,

right?

you let me pick the movie,

you paid for my ticket.

rewind, stop, play: we’re just friends.

you told me I looked nice,

I said I just threw it on.

the heat in my cheeks gave away my poker face,

but you’re the kind of guy that wants to play the game.

you smiled and said me too.

your smile has won trophies,

you’re not allowed to show it off to me.

I avoided eye contact until the trailers started,

but I purposely kept my hand out in the open,

something in me begged for you to grab it.

we’re just friends now seems like a jingle that can’t escape my head.

the moon’s shiver replaced the sun’s warmth.

between deep breaths, I hid the fluttering in my stomach.

I didn’t remember eating butterflies for breakfast.

 

you paid for my meal,

we’re just friends,

we talked for two hours,

we’re just friends,

I sat with my knees facing you,

we’re just friends.

you asked me about boyfriends in college,

we’re just friends.

you drove me home,

we’re just friends.

I hesitated before getting out of the car,

the song in my head seemed to go mute,

my mind was too focused on how your body was a magnet to me.

the air pulled me tighter and tighter,

until I smelled your cologne and heard your breathing.

who knew hearts could run marathons?

the moment grew longer and longer.

you told me goodnight,

you said you had fun,

you watched me walk into my house,

then I got to watch you drive away.

 

but before any of that.

before the goodbyes,

and the awkward laughs,

and the slow walking to my door.

you sang me that song that’s been stuck in my head all day:

danielle, we’re just friends.

I knew your voice could make angels cry,

but I’m nowhere near an angel.

that was my last heartbreak.


Words by Danielle Gorman // Photography by Emma Robinson.

© 2017 Reef Magazine

 

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