Turn Into

by ThighMasterTorgo

She destructed me. But I'd do it all over again because she was my first love. First love is always the love that makes you fall hardest. It's like the first time you fall from a bicycle - you know it's coming but you don't expect it to hurt so much. We swallow our first loves whole and we let it burn without thinking because we've never had our hearts broken before. Until now.

1. Chapter 1

She was a quiet girl with quiet smiles and knowing glances. She had a fierceness in her eyes and a grace in her movements. She offered little and spoke only when she needed to. Her hair was a dark ocean, shining in the night and surrounding her in mystery. Her lips were painted red and always curved into a smile, like she knew a secret. Her eyes were almost never revealed from behind her glossy sunglasses but when they were, they would knock you on your ass. Big brown pools of knowledge, that saw you, really saw you.

To the average onlooker, she was just a normal seventeen year old girl with an edge and a bit of a rebellious side. She liked to party, she liked to smoke cigarettes, she liked to dance and she liked to fight. She wore what she wanted, did what she wanted and didn't care if anybody else liked it. Yes, to the average onlooker, she was nothing more than your typical pain in the ass teenager.

But to me, she was everything.

Memories soaked my dreams. She came to me every night and I gripped my sheets, wishing it was her shirt as she smiled and tugged it away from me. My mind flashed with vivid pictures of our life together. Her painted fingernails that were always chipping wrapped around the steering wheel of her old beat up Nova. Her loud laugh that she never held back. Her whispering I love you as the moon rose up to its place in the black sky. The way her bare skin looked washed in the pale blue light of the morning. Carnival lights bouncing off her face as she smiled, letting her face split open with joy. Snowflakes in her dark hair, her grin wicked and she packed a snowball between her purple fingers. Her feet leaving prints on the shore of a cold beach, glances thrown over her shoulder, a smile hidden behind her hair.

I can still feel her hands sliding down my arm as we lay in bed, only the lights from the rainy city illuminating the room. I can still remember the way she smells, the way she tastes, the way her face contorts as she screams at me to get the fuck out.

I still remember every line of her smile, every scuff on her old boots, every color she painted her nails and every time I heard her sigh from happiness. I can still smell the last cigarette she lit before she left and disappeared.

My memory is quite well, which is unfortunate for me. While I would love to forget her as everyone else seems to do as time passes, I'm remembering something new every day. Like the time she was pissed off at me for forgetting her birthday. It was a fight I knew I should have stopped with a simple apology, but we were fighters. It's what we always did.

But that's how time works. It shows you what you should have, could have done instead and sometimes you regret it, sometimes you just have to let it go. I'm hoping that by the time I'm done remembering, I can let her go too. I'm getting tired from always remembering, always loving and always waiting for someone who is nothing more than a ghost.