You Can Make it Last, Forever You / by Rebecca Tillett

I remember what it was like to feel;
to swallow, to heave.
I remember the sensation of sensation,
feeling satisfied at losing heart
because I was losing something,
because I was feeling something.

I remember the small-city-lit walls;
the orange glow igniting the dark black sky;
broken only by dancing glittered flecks.
The smoldering moon lighting my way.
I remember the wet grass against the soles of my feet,
laughing about nothing; running from nothing.

I remember difficult phone calls,
saturated with bones and blood and loss;
The sharp corners of real-life spoiling our fun.
I remember bruising myself on your ribs,
and soaking you in blood, in everything.

I remember the suffering in your screams,
the smooth and shiny barrel of your gun.
I remember your colorless vacuous eyes
and the dents in your laughter.
I remember the way you loved me when you loved me.

I remember more than you know.

I remember being your best friend, your only friend.
I remember feeling alone with you
and scared with you.
I remember the demise of a mother
and the accrual of a confidante.

I remember you cried at the funeral
and you were the only one.
I remember holding your hand, comforting you.
I remember feeling like an imposter,
projecting such a false facade of strength.

I remember Thirty-Three make-up,
amateur photographs of experienced young girls.
The bright red lipstick smeared across your face,
mascara smeared across mine.
(our line of demarcation at 16
between our simulated lives and our real ones.)

“the sun is out and up and down again
i know i’ll make it, love can last forever.”

I remember intoxication,
the texture of your skin, the spinning red lights,
the permutation of vodka and saliva,
your hands on my face.
I remember the exhilaration in first contact;
bits and pieces of your mouth in mine.

I remember swapping life stories with you,
meeting your family, feeling so alien in your world.
I remember being dolled up for a dance
and not having a date and not giving a damn.
I remember idolizing you.

I remember your carelessness with me,
I remember your hands all over me; up and down,
sleeping beside a foreigner.
and uncomfortable silences forever afterwards.

I remember the ambiance of your adoration,
your warm voice, the cliched I-love-you’s.
I remember touching you, meeting a stranger.
I remember melting in your arms,
I remember feeling important; feeling like somebody.

I remember you, my constant, my backbone.
I remember every detail of you,
every discrepancy in your skin, in your being.
I remember tasting the words from your mouth,
and grasping your beating heart in my hands.

careful not to cripple this organ you’ve trusted me with.

I remember four and five and six years
feeling loved; I remember feeling abandoned.
I remember collapsing to the floor,
sobbing and confessing my shrinking desire to continue.

If I indeed have a purpose here, I believe
it’s already been fulfilled; I feel lost.

I remember your confessions of me to others,
and the way in which you repeated them to me.
The I-can’t-imagine-my-life-without-hers and the

Such simple sentiments as those have warmed
my heart and if I died tomorrow I feel I’d die satisfied.

and that’s something I’ll remember.