after you
a love poem for a stranger
under that endless blue satin blanket of sky,
the clouds fluttered across without us
while the soccer team raced down the field
while classes still lectured and bored
while kids hurried off to important things in the halls
while teachers patrolled the space, but not well enough
while we stood huddled in that alcove at the back of the school,
your arms wrapped tight around me,
holding all the broken pieces together.
i didn’t understand.
i knew your first name and all about your girl and how you
wore lewd shirts that made you the only boy in school to be dress coded.
but you knew the way my eyes turn crystalline blue when they water;
you knew that i wage wars against myself- and play to win;
you knew how the fabric of a person could come undone,
how easily they could come untethered from this world.
you knew exactly what to say.
and i didn’t understand.
you told me you knew what darkness felt like.
you told me you would hold everyone’s darkness inside you if
it meant no one else would ever have to.
the world felt small after that, after your big hug, after you.
years later i still think about it,
trying to understand.
i cried because i couldn’t remember your name one day-
until i found your distantly warm brown eyes in the yearbook.
i still can’t quite swallow that moment.
i think even if i understand one day,
i will never be able to.
nothing will ever be as small as it was in that moment.
nothing is the same after you.
