The intensity of hearing your voice for the first time
                      (since you threatened to **** me)
the familiar growl and curt tone
                      (sounding like a teenager rolling their eyes)
and all this time I thought I would be unafraid
all
this
time
I imagined how together I could be.
Siked myself up.
Prepared for the worst.
And all I heard
was adolescent attitude and no room for compromise.
"I'm really busy on Christmas."
                (Too busy with your new meal ticket to talk to your children?)
One minute
Twenty One Seconds
And even though you didn’t yell or call me names or call me out
I still felt timid, cowed.
I still pretend I am hard
unsuccessfully ignoring you in the halls.
Making awkward faces.
                       (Not used to not feeling guilty.)
I just can’t talk yet.
                       (I can’t and I’m okay if I never do.)
I can see your anger, though.
My awkward grimace sparking a tongue in cheek, “Felisha.”
I loved you....
                       (I still do but I'm not after your hand.)
And our soul friendship is real.
I fear
carrying these two endings with me for a long time