It was the autumn of my first semester and the first time I fell in love with her.
It was sudden, like a bee sting, how it pricked me. My skin, tender and bruised, carried the mark of her poisonous kiss like a tattoo.
It was dizzying how quickly she reeled me in. Caught under her spell, I was drunk on the whimsy of her eyes and the promise of her lips to see her intentions clearly. It was deliberate how she moved — like a snake; she set her ravenous gaze on mine. The heat of her touch would sear me, brand me as hers. Like a possession, I was sometimes toyed with and cherished but mostly tossed to the side based on her whims and needs. It was cloying, lying on her dusty shelves. Yet, I remained. Was it foolish, yes? But my life was finally given purpose. A plaything to be plucked, teased, stretched, and released, I was something to someone, which is better than nothing to no one.
Until I met him, unlike her, it was subtle how he invaded my defenses. Like a Trojan horse, friendship was disguised for lust, and my walls inevitably crumbled at his strategic advances. However, I would not be quick to call myself a victim; no, I was receptive. I was willing. But can you blame me? The challenge in his eyes, the tease of his smile, and the scent of his desire lulled me to compliance. Like a flower, I bloomed for him, spreading my petals for his overpowering essence. Drowning in him, I was reluctant to lift up my head, buried in a tangle of arms and incessant pleas; I was no beyond the meaning of life — yes, now I want to carve out an entire path for myself! Like an explored waving a machete slicing through the raw, uncut blades, revealing adventure onwards, I blazed ahead! Reckless was my song, regret far inversions my comprehension, I grew arrogant on this heady brew. I was addicted too.
I should have seen it coming — like a kick to the back of the knees; I crumbled, defenseless to their schemes. From an outsider’s perspective, you must think, why did I make it so effortless? A pawn in this game, they wove a spell of disdain disguised as love. And I fell for it — mouth open wide and hungry. If only I had been taught to chew correctly, I may have detected the bones and tough fat. But I was not raised to be a predator, no, I was raised to be devoured. Pulled apart and gnawed on. A weakling, a prey to false intentions, but please don’t pity me.
Because I would suffer through the duplicity again and again just to bask in their presence.
Mecca-Amirah Jackson 