I had been on the verge of crying all night,
the bathroom was so tempting.
A cathartic sanctuary for just a minute or two,
not long enough to be missed,
not long enough to be noticed.
But I feared I might look over at the shower,
your shower,
and see us the day of the pool party.
It’s how I always picture you,
did you know that?
Do you do that?
Have a certain image of someone from a certain moment,
and that’s just how you picture them?
I picture you in the shower,
you looked so good,
the best you’ve ever looked.
Tan, defined, your eyes the brightest blue against white tiles,
I ******* melted and chased the water down the drain just looking at you.
And I looked the worst-
makeup smeared around,
hair in tangles.
Clumsy too,
I took out your shelf when we tried to have ***.
Height difference,
we never quite mastered it.
But it was funny
and we had such fun that day.
And now I’m so bored and I think you are too
and it makes me want to cry.
And want to be alone and
never have to look at you again,
or picture you in the shower,
or call out your name,
or touch you
cause it’s exhausting.
And at the same time I want to grab you
and look you straight in the eye
and say you’re one of a kind
and I’ll never forget you
and hope you know how huge that is
and I don’t care
if you don’t say it back
and I do care
if we never go on vacation,
or **** in a car wash,
or the main library,
or go on a date.