I.
You bought me flowers.
Five months,
four moments of fire,
three conversations about “the ones that got away”,
two hands tracing the inside of each other’s palms,
and one disappointing thought later,
Here we are.
I almost want to say
you should have known better.
But how could you have known?

II.    
When I was six my sister
painted makeup on my face
and told me I looked like a grown- up.
Miniature mountains of mascara covered my lashes
while the colors of a bouquet
like the one sitting on my cluttered desk,
rested on my eyelids.
My eye was so itchy
but six year old me refused to scratch because
I didn’t want the illusion to smudge.
I couldn’t bring myself to ruin her masterpiece.

III.
I have this nightmare.
I stand in a room full of mirrors
but my eyes are shut.
I try to decode the map in my mind
of where to go from here.
How to go from point A to point C without seeing B.
Because B will be in pain. And he won’t understand
why he was overlooked when all signs pointed
towards having someone pass though
or having someone stay a while.
I think of you. How any apology
any “No, you really shouldn’t have”
won’t be good enough.
I am rendered speechless
by carnations
by daisies
by baby’s breath.