Like him
She says when she asks about me
he gets quiet
She says that’s not like him
When I think about him
I think of sticky summers and drives through florets of trees
I think of book stacks and cool blue walls
I think of mountain tops and ice cream cones
I think of campfires under the great big moon
I think of turtles and raspberry bushes
I think of our little adventures
The ones just for me
She says he can’t talk about me
Too close to his heart
A wound too deep
Does he show her his pain, in hopes of concealing his guilt
Does he believe his own words to be true
Does he remember
When I think of him
I think of speeding tickets and empty gas tanks
I think of missing keepsakes, borrowed secrets
I think of raw blisters and coiled snakes
I think of the nights the stars were forced to watch the moon wane away
I think of the picture I still have left
Back when it was all -still- just for me
She smiles
She asks me about him
If I remember
I do
I get quiet
I say that’s not like me
She looks up, studies my face
She says, she thinks I must be -just- like him
Posted May 1, 2026, 11:22 PM UTC