from: nov. 2006 in Poems: 2006 - 2014

  • Nov. 13, 2016, 10:18 p.m.
  • |
  • Public

‘ ‘
“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Nothing,” I tell you.
My lips form the words but my eyes say something else entirely different. The eyes that everyone else thinks are freaky because they change colour too much. Without even thinking about it I make eye contact. A sign. “C’mon I know something’s wrong. My girlfriend . . .” you don’t finish.
My heart immediatly reaches out to you but my mind tells me otherwise. So, I don’t say anything. And, I can still hear my mother’s warning, given earlier that day, as I’ve heeard it so many times before: “You’re not to tell anyone”.
But then I remember something else: what happened the last time I ignored someone. They . . .died. Because of that. Correction: She . . .died, because of that. Your girlfriend. My best friend. I can’t have the same thing happen twice. And, I won’t.
Unconsciouely, without my noticing, my body’s slid closer to yours, my hand somehow slipping into yours. Ironically, you’re the one who sheds the tears. 2 droplets of water, rolling down your cheeks, simmering in the blue darkness. Just like the blood that fell earlier. “We’re going to be late,” I whisper, warning.
You don’t turn to me, and I realize why: Pain needs no explanation. I feel your muscles tense as you swallow back tears, attempting to stop the pain. “I . . .” you choke out. You swallow and clear your throat, then start over. “I don’t care if . . .um, we’re late. I just want to make sure you’re ok and . . .” your voice fades off into the darkness.
I know what it is without your saying: You want to make sure I don’t make the same mistake she did, because she was ignored. By everyone. Well, a “mistake” implies that it’s bad and I don’t think it was. Is.
I swallow hard, blinking back, refusing to let tht tears fall. A small hint of when we heard the news passes through my mind, but I refuse to linger over it. My thin fingers wrap tightly around your large hand, squeezing it. You squeeze back.


No comments.

You must be logged in to comment. Please sign in or join Prosebox to leave a comment.