i let my fear of you
interrupt
everything.
yet some days
i go weeks
without thinking of you.

without thinking
of the time you criticized
your thick blonde mane
and i, ever naive & in denial
about your suffering,
had never heard you turn
against your body before.

later
i found out
it was because you met a girl.

and you didn't want me anymore.

so i spent the sunday alone
perched on your windowsill
diagnosed with strep throat
reading your journal
and learning that you wanted
to kill yourself.

i raced around your empty house
trying to find a knife
a pair of scissors
anything
to cut away the pain.
when you returned to me
i rolled up my sleeves in pure defiance
and made sure you saw
what i did to myself.

you taught me to confuse
love and sex
romance and friendship
my junior high boy-crushes
and you
blonde and lesbian.

when your lips hit mine
i wasn't shocked.
i knew it was coming
and i was pleased.
but i didn't realize desiring to be desired
and being caught
were two different things.

EDIT: September 21, 2015