OCTOBER 2010

I've tried to erase you from my memory,
but there are a couple things I can't forget.
I mean fuck, I was only 12 years old
and you convinced me to read dantes inferno in your neighbors attic that summer,
and there was no air conditioning,
and you took care of their cats when no one was home.
looking back I probably would have kissed you,
if you were prettier,
or if I liked you as much as you liked me.

I mean, you're the reason I started writing.
when you asked me if the blink-182 lyrics on my notebook were something I wrote myself.
I thought you were talking about my notes, maybe being sarcastic-
"yes of course i wrote them"
fuck, then I felt dumb,
you obviously meant the lyrics and I was so young I still got nervous around girls.

you thought they were amazing and I didn't have the heart to spoil your admiration.
when you found out they weren't mine, you didn't have the heart to tell me.
so I felt like I had to write, to show you that I actually could, because you kept asking.

so we both filled spiral notebooks with shitty middle school poetry-
ABAB, AABB rhyme schemes.
and then I threw it at the bottom of a junk drawer and tried not to ever find it again, but every time i did i didn't have the heart to throw it out,
like I'm sure you did with yours when you hated me,
and you had good reason to.
I was immature and couldn't talk to you because of how you cared about me.
I'm sorry I didn't explain myself I'm sorry it happened overnight-
I guess I was scared by how mature your feelings were.
I guess I still am.

remember the time that we were sitting on my dock and I said I didn't want to grow up?
you said we didn't have to, that we could choose-
we could sit on the dock forever or we could get older and then try and find innocence again, or at least complacency,
with love and alcohol and sex and drugs.
I said I wanted to sit on the dock,
and then we dunked our heads in the water,
and laughed and went to watch our friends play sandlot baseball.
but I wasn't content like you were,
I'm still not.