I loved
you
I thought.
I stole you: lingering glances in the mirrors of the dance studio.
Practised.
A slow tilt of the head, my eyes just finding yours and staying there,
one second
two second
don't lose count
look away.
A quick glance back, just to check. Are you looking? Of course you are.
Blue-green eyes
with a Taylor Swift soundtrack that never quite leaves.
"Thank God," I say, the first time you kiss me.
"What?"
"You're not bad."
Your house is all broken gate and peeling wallpaper and pitbull terriers and your mom and she hears voices out of the walls and she screams if we talk too loud and the wine doesn't help her fits but we go and see her in that place all the same.
They call you to tell you she's been admitted, that she's been found.
We're in the middle of drama and that's just what it is
isn't it
drama
but your tears are real and I'll never forget that day, never, not til the day I die.
The end didn't do us justice, not really.
You didn't sleep with N but you wanted to.
Does it matter?