He had soft brown eyes and a forgiving soul.
He had a hug that consumed me in warmth.
He had lips that curled up at the ends and dimples when he laughed.
He had a voice more comforting than Bon Iver records at midnight.
He wore recycled shoes, and a cross necklace.
He also wore embarrassment between our interlocking fingers.
He kept secrets within our late night walks and me dropping him off 10 feet before his house.
He lived in a white house, which I would never see from the inside, with the label girlfriend tattooed on my shoulder.
He left, because my existence was his skeleton in the closet.
She was afraid of what her parents would think.
The Young Writers Project provides VPR's audience another avenue to hear and read selections from Vermont's young writers. The project is a collaboration organized by Geoff Gevalt at the Young Writers Project. The thoughts and ideas expressed here are the writers' own and do not necessarily reflect those of Vermont Public Radio.
