but I only know that because
my mom showed me your wedding pictures on facebook.
he is handsome, and you are beautiful, perfect.

i can't see your happiness anymore;
i'm behind a wall, and your special day--any of your days are invisible to me
you're not even tagged
in silly photos we took nine and a half years ago

why?

childhood memories and a wave of nostalgia hit me
remember the basketball hoop that almost killed you?
remember quarter-roy?
imagined fairies and magic in your cardboard fort?
swimming in the lake in your backyard on hot days?
me riding the bus home with you sometimes, eating skittles,
keeping them hidden from the bus driver?
we never talked about marriage, like all little girls supposedly do
and now i'm sad we didn't
the closest we came to sharing the dream
of looking pretty in a dress
was as prom queens together, at different schools

we met one time after i moved away from that small town
(where we both were pressured and compressed until we melted away into our own neat, square boxes)
and you said I looked different
but you did too

you wrote me a message
almost two years ago.
i was surprised to see it
it was so caring, compassionate, and wonderful
i did not respond
and i did not realize that meant the end

i miss our childhood
i will miss seeing you and your joys
and i wish i could change your push of a button

I wish I could say it directly to you:
congratulations, and
i'm sorry,
but not in that order