sitting quiet at the corner,
my sides became brighter
as you marched towards my chair,
you made me aware
—with how you swayed the strings of your jacket,
and how their knots at the end tapped my skin
—that you were there

it happened on the 8th of eight,
but i'm still bearing the weight of guilt,
when you left a mark in my head
that i will never forget
—you used the word, expensive, love
asking me if i want you to love me

i know i felt excited;
i know you didn't mean it,
i waited for you to take it back but you didn't,
so i made you take back your words,
and there, finally, you said "it was a joke",
somehow, i felt disappointed