Throat, Eye, and Knucklebone

I thought of the line, "I'm tired of being brave". But this wasn't about bravery. Because I could have done it. But Desiree had looked at me so passively when she advised, "you can't take that back". I stored those stupid words away in the cheap tupperware that leaked and I was not happy. It was April and I said it out loud.

You sat across from me on the cement steps and reached for the wine that we both hated. I pretended to like it more so it wasn't so strange that I was drunk. You laid your head against the cracks that jutted into the siding of the building and crushed an ant with the pad of your finger. It was July and I still thought I was beautiful.

Under the leaking air conditioner you told me that you had never loved anyone and I believed you. I thought of the way you looked at me the time I couldn't find you in the crowd. But you had found me; waiting for me to see you. It was February then and you were wearing blue.