On a Friday night in April
you wander through the city
with a boy you know is kind
and good.

You're feeling a flutter in your
chest, one that's good not bad.
The kind you haven't felt since
December when another boy
touched you until your bled and
you didn't want him to and

its okay its okay its okay.

A suddenly it comes comes flooding
back... the fear and your blood turns cold
because you're alone with a boy and he
could hurt you just like the last and
the city is so big so big
and no one would ever know and...

You look over at the boy
you know is kind and good.
He's not plotting to hurt you.
He's just taking in the sights
in the city,
hands in his pockets and

later that night you confess
to him
about the boy that hurt you.
You didn't call it what it was (assault)
told the story like you always do,
joking and awkward.
He sees right through the ruse.

"If you ever want to talk,"
he says, "I'm here."
And means it.

On a Friday in April,
you found yourself walking
through the city with a boy
who is kind
and good.