PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You could call this a story, a biography, non-fiction, maybe even fiction, but the point is the writings on these next pages, if you care to read them, are thoughts, memories, and stupid little things I found important. The real reason I've decided to write this is to tell you, the reader, about this wonderful man that I knew for a very long time, and I feel that I owe it to him to tell someone our story because that's what he would want, and he's not around anymore to tell it.
I was walking down Rucker, next to my school, staring at the ground, counting the squares on the sidewalk as I went, then, it happened. I looked up just in time to see his face before our foreheads knocked together. As I crashed to the ground, nearly unconscious I thought about the glimpse of his face that I had seen. Blond, chin length hair, elongated nose with a little bump on the top. His skin was pale, and flawless.
I hit my head on the ground pretty hard, I guess, because I woke up on a painted red bench, next to a cow painted on a white wall. I wondered where I was. Suddenly there was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned my head to see him, the blond guy. He picked me up in one solid motion and started carrying me to a room, in the back of the hospital, and laid me down on a bed.
About an hour later, i still hadn't seen a doctor, but the whole time I had been visiting blond guy. I seen a package of grape cigars labeled "Swisher Sweets" sticking out of his flannel pocket, so I decided the best name for this John Doe would be Swisher. We talked about life, money, dreams, ambitions, but my favorite part was when we talked about love. At the time, I was only 15. I had never been in love, I had an idea of what it was, but the word itself is tossed around so much in modern society that I was unsure of it's actual meaning.. that is until I saw the smile on his face, and the way his eyes lit up when I told him I love when a guy "snuggles" my neck, he replied with a simple, "that's my specialty". At that exact moment in time I didn't realize what I had gotten myself into, but I knew it was amazing, and I knew I was in love with Swisher.
Swisher was a year older than me and the rest of my friends. They were snobby, and stuck up. I only hung out with them because frankly, I had no other choice. They all carried Coach bags, and wore Apple Bottom Jeans, and Aeropostale and Hollister shirts. I carried a bag made from hemp and leather, I wore a flannel, jeans from thrift stores, and band t-shirts. I never curled my hair, or sprayed fancy perfume on me like they did, and Swisher didn't seem to mind.
After the hospital incident, Swisher and I became inseparable. Every waking moment I spent with him, and no one seemed to mind. Since my mom died when I was 7, all I had was my dad, A cashier at QFC, A faithful church go-er, An overall very overprotective father. Yet, he never really cared when I would call at 9 PM and tell him I was staying at Swisher's that night. It was the weirdest thing. It was as if, he trusted him, more so than me.
It was never really said that he was my boyfriend, but from day one, he was, because, well, he was perfect boyfriend material. If I woke up at 3 in the morning and wanted grape juice, i would get grape juice, even if it meant he had to go to the store, he would do it with no complaints. I could call him crying at any time and he would make it all better by saying something completely irrelevant and taking my mind off the subject.
I don't know why, but we never exchanged "I love you"s for the first 2 months or so. We took it very slow. We weren't really rushing, we just liked eachother's company. On my 16th birthday, we had been dating about 4 months, and he kissed me on the lips for the first time. It was very well worth the wait. Back then, at any point in time I was willing to do anything with him, but he never really seemed all too interested, like he didn't want to hurt me. Now that I look back, that was a good thing.
When I was almost 17, Swisher got an apartment. The moment I told my dad the news, he knew what was going to happen. Two weeks after he moved into the apartment, so did I. It was amazing. I got to spend every second with the guy I loved. And he really loved me. One night, there was a really bad storm. The power went out, and we huddled under a blanket in the middle of the room in the dark. That was the first time we made love. I remember, I was wearing his t-shirt, and a pair of underwear, my usual night-time attire, and he was in his scooby-doo boxers that I had bought him for Christmas. The roar of the thunder, the electrified mood from the lightning, the rain banging against the windows. It felt right, and it was.
After that glorious night we became even closer, and as often as possible we would go at it like monkeys. It was March 12th, a sunny but cold spring day, and it also happened to be our anniversary. Being as how we went to an alternative highschool we had to take the city bus to school. We almost always sat in the same seat, 3 seats from the back, it was what he called "our seat". There was no one but an older lady in the front of the bus and a young mother and her baby a few seats infront of us on the bus that day. I looked over at him, and as the sun shined through his hair, his blue eyes sparkled, and his wonderful smile flashed at me, and for a split second I felt as though this ratty, ghetto, city bus seat were a park bench in Paris, directly infront of the Eiffel tower as it gleamed brightly through the darkness, and I knew that the past three years of my life were in no way, shape or form a waste of time, and I wanted to be with this guy for the rest of my life.
It was July, we had both graduated from our highschool, myself on time and Swisher a year late. I got my paycheck from my job at Mc Donalds and I wanted to buy some new shoes and go out for dinner. We took the bus to the mall and I bought my shoes then we started walking to the Red Robin across the street from the mall. We waited till the little man showed up on the cross walk sign and started across the street but half-way across I heard the worst noise I could ever imagine. A white Prius had side-swiped three parked cars and was coming straight for us. I started running but the car changed paths and was coming straight for me. Swisher jumped infront of me and cushioned the impact of the car slamming into me. We flew almost 20 feet and landed between 2 cars. I laid there, not knowing what to do, then I felt the blood oozing out of his head. I sat up to see his bloody and torn shirt, and the pool of blood on my jeans and the dirty city street. I started screaming for someone to call the police and he opened his eyes. Swisher looked in my eyes and said something I'll never, ever forget. "I was going to propose tonight, but I guess there's other plans for me. I love you." I kissed him for the last time and we sat there in the street until the ambulance came. He was already gone and there was nothing we could do.
I'll never forget Swisher. He was my first.. everything. I loved him, I still do. Rest in Peace Dylan Xavier Johnson, there's not a day I go without thinking about you.