You kissed her
and I cried.

At first, every tear was a memory.
That time at that party,
Missing buses to stay late,
Meeting the family, birthdays, Christmas,
Endless evenings in the garden,
Planes, trains and automobiles,
A Canadian summer,
The four of us, together.

Until that night when you stopped being you
And became 'him'.

Then, each tear was a plan we'd made.
Christmases, holidays in the Rockies,
A life abroad, living in the street you'd build.
A wedding.

You didn't notice I was crying.
You kissed her again and laughed.
The same way you kissed my sister
And laughed at our friend's jokes.

I willed you to look at me,
To ask why, so I could tell you:
I cried because
I miss you.