In Rooms Unfamiliar But Until Now:

i loved him, you say. i loved him,
& i don’t care that you hate me for it.

glass could break slowly, like hot
blood flowing weakly through water
with that harsh voice of yours.

your hands are shaking, & i duly note
that your nails are shorter & more bitten
than ever. cuticles frayed, bleeding. i try to notice only that.

at what point is a secret too big to
tell a friend, but light enough for you to
carry it on your own?

in your eyes i don’t see any memories of
long summers & shared ice creams.
of mosquito bites & chlorinated water.
laughing for hours on hot, white sand.

they are gone, lost, fading with that
delicious secret you called love.
what happened to childhood & not
knowing anything about big, scary issues?

you were changing before me; in front
of me, & i never noticed. the mincing walk,
the high pitched giggle, the flicking of your
hair when He came into view.

Your world has become terribly adult to me,
& i never know what to do. cling in
desperation, to someone who i know will rush off
& become someone’s darling prostitute.

what happened? there is a harshness about
you that isn’t kind, anymore. in my sadness i
try to change (for you), but i am brushed off
casually by someone who has morphed.

what happened?