Everything's Dark.

Why

When I was four years old,

I kissed a boy on the playground.

He tasted like green apple suckers

and told me I was pretty.

When I was seven years old,

I sat with that same boy

on the bus everyday.

He told me about his mom

and said she was his best friend.

We secretly held hands

underneath our winter coats.

When I was eight years old,

a girl told me I was ugly.

He wiped away my tears

and told me I was the

prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

And then he continued to remind me

everyday after that.

When I was ten years old,

I sat alone on the bus that day.

We passed his house and

there were police cars in

the driveway.

No one would tell me why.

He didn't come back to school

for two weeks.

When I was thirteen years old,

the boy got into a lot of fights.

He rarely smiled,

and when we spoke,

his eyes didn't hold that spark

I grew to love.

I never understood why.

When I was seventeen years old,

he kissed me and tasted like

a mixture of cigarettes and alcohol.

He told me he loved me

and that I was beautiful.

I didn't know what to say

because he was drunk

and I was crying.

When I was eighteen years old,

I stood by his grave

wondering what would have happened

if I had said that I loved him

back.