A true love story, written in verse and based on me and my boyfriend.


6. Six

For the first couple months of our relationship,

My anxiety and depression faded.

I was lighter, more willing to live.

I started listening to

The Owl City songs

That were dusty in my iPod.

Every time I listened to the song

“If My Heart Was A House”,

I though of Francis.


What was interesting about us was that

We relied on each other equally.

It wasn’t just him leaning on me,

Or just me leaning on him.

We revolved around each other,

We both had to be each other’s strength.


When I broke my good streak and cut again,

I was scared to tell him the next day.

But I told him,

And he stayed by my side.

He convinced me to really try to stop.

It was harder than I thought it would be.

The longest I usually made it without a cut

Was two weeks.

Sometimes I lasted a month.

But I always ended up

knockingmy fragile promises off the shelf,

And scrambling to pick up the pieces.

The scars kept forming.

I could tell that every time I told him

Ws harder for both of us.

The more our love grew,

The more it hurt to have to admit to him

That I’d lost my strength.

But I still told him

Every time,

Because I knew it would hurt him more

If he found out that I’d said nothing.


My panic attacks came back,

And grew worse,

And I didn’t understand why.

Francis helped me through them,

Either through the computer or in person.

I eventually found out that there was a possibility

That I had Panic Disorder,

Which was why my attacks were often random.


And always by my side

Keeping me strong as I struggled

With mental and emotional turmoil,

Was Francis.


As we reached two months,

I realized something:

He might be my soul mate.

And, in the library with him the day I thought that,

I realized

That he was my soul mate.

I could feel it, deep in my core.


The library visits continued,

And we went once a week,

Spending two hours


And kissing.


It was during the fifth or sixth library visit

That something changed.


The pain.


That was what Francis called it.


I won’t go into details of what it actually is.

I assume it’s easy to figure out,

Considering it happened while we were making out.


He’d told me that he’d gotten it a couple of times before,

At previous library visits,

But this time it was worse,

And worsening with every passing minute.

There wasn’t anything that he could do about it,

Not at the library.

He asked me if we could keep making out.

“It helps,” he said, eyes wide.


I was a bit hesitant.

I could see something different in his eyes.


Slowly, I agreed,

And he leapt to his feet

As though nothing was wrong.

That startled me,

But then every thought faded as we started to kiss.


His mouth was hungry,

Hungry in a way that was unfamiliar to me,

And almost scary,

But I didn’t stop him.

He slid his hands down my back, on top of my shirt,

To rest on the base of my spine.

He alternated a couple of times

Between kissing my lips

And kissing my neck.

Pleasure shot through my body,

Accompanied by a tiny fear.

Something was different.

This wasn’t sweet,

Or careful.

It was desperation, hunger.

A wildfire,

Slowly going out of control.


But I didn’t try to douse the flame.


Even as his fingers moved south,

I kept going,

Kept dancing with the flame.

Even as unfamiliar as it was,

There was a part of me that was enjoying this,

The sudden surge of lust.


Pleasure was rocketing through my body,

A shokcing new experience.


But, eventually,

I needed to breathe.


When I stopped him, he collapsed,


Pain was streaked across his face,

And he occassionally let out a small groan.

It was torture for me

As I sat by his side and hed his hand.

I couldn’t do anything to help him through this.


He looked up at me.

“Can we keep going?”


I hesitated.


“Please? It’s the only thing that helps.”


Finally, I agreed.


My phone went off a few minutes later,

Buzzing with a text from my mom.


Be there in 5.


Francis glanced at the text, and frowned, nodding.

I put my phone in my pocket,

And he immediately kissed me again.



His hand was in front of the V of my jeans,

And his brown eyes were questioning.

“Can I? Just for the last few minutes? Please?”


I nodded, and kissed him.

His hand moved.

My phone went off again three minutes later -

My mom.


Where are you??


Saving my work. I’ll be right out.


Francis started apologizing as soon as I hung up.

“I’m so sorry, I forced you into that...”

I silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you!”

I walked backwards to keep him in my sights,

Almost running into a little girl.

“I love you, too!” he called as I turned around.


After that day,

He was more careful,

More in control.

Once I told him about how the experience was for me,

How my Francis had disappeared, leaving someone different in his place.

I told him how it both scared me and thrilled me.

He didn’t want to scare me,

And learned control

So that day wouldn’t be repeated again,

So the wildfire Francis wouldn’t return.


That strengthened my love for him,

The knowledge that he wanted to learn to overcome

The hormonal lust that was typical at his age.

He didn’t want our relationship destroyed by hormones

And loss of control.


Any doubts that I had

About his true intentions


I knew then that

He really did love me,

That it wasn’t lust and hormones.

That knowledge warmed me to the core of my heart.

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