it was only fifth grade
when your friends told me
you only liked me because you felt sorry for me.
i don’t know why
but i still can’t meet anyone new.
i never grew up
and because of that
all i ever hear is the echoing of
your commiserating anthem
in the faces of new human beings.
my mind will be responsible for destroying me
and for some reason
your song is still stuck in my head.
it was only fifth grade
but still i felt love in your side hugs
and innocent eyes.
the love like a child with a lollipop.
i thought, “what a person”
and i thanked god for our after school conversations
about the horrid school lunches
and playground games.
i can still feel the shaking of my voice
like thunder
when i asked you if you really liked me.
they say there’s nothing like
a soft lip and a shaky heart,
but is that even if it rattles
like an earthquake?
i waited while you counted
one mississippi
two mississippi
three mississippi
four,
and still i was left
with wood chips between my toes.
it was only fifth grade
but ever since then
all i ever thought is that
people were just being nice to me.
the boy with velvet lips
who told me my heart was like cotton candy
was just being nice.
as well as the one
with honey glazed fingertips
that said he loved the gap between my teeth.
but these words were empty to me.
it was only fifth grade
but i can still remember
my voice breaking
and feeling shattered and bruised and dashed
and every other synonym
that you could possibly think of.
it was only fifth grade
and you were always nice to me
and i loved that about you.
but out of your pity
came a curse
that makes them all
just like you.