I promise it’s a love story.

Pages filled with being whisked away to a city I’ve never been,

Case Races and abandoned art buildings filled with drunken debauchery.

My body pressed against the wall as the room was alive with the last fiery light of our weekend together.

Hands clasped together as we walked through cherry blossom littered city streets.

Breathing in the freedom I’ve never had.

Dancing in the backyard, my mind sluggish with all the red, red wine.

The tequila,

The beer,

Every drink he pushed into my hands made their way down my throat and i loved him

I loved him.

I loved him.

It’s a love story until I explain how I couldn’t tell anyone.

It’s a love story until the alcohol he fed me was more important than his lips pressing all over my stomach.

More desired than the way his 24 year old hands worshiped the flat, smooth lines of my 16 year old body.

It’s a love story until I tell you how I sat in a random apartment watching the sunset while they laughed.

Digging crescent moons into my palms to shove down the image of his friend shooting up, a needle in his neck, eyes rolling back.

It’s a love story until I tell you how I couldn’t leave.

It was a love story until I realized what was so wrong.

It was a love story until I saw through my parents anger, and instead recognized their pain.

Their worst nightmare had come true.

It was a love story until I tried to scrub every kiss, every touch, every laugh, every fucking everything off of my skin.

I was left with nothing but raw irritated flesh and an unquenchable thirst.

And I loved him.

I loved him.

Bio: Florence-Susanne Reppert (they/them) is a 25 year old poet and photographer from Pennsylvania. They are one of the editors/founders of Poetry as Promised Magazine and Nowhere as Promised open mic in Allentown PA. You can find them on Instagram @schizo_trash_poet