Fourth Thursday

"I saw the way you were looking at me..."

There was no blood between us.
Just two people with different blood
pumping through different bodies,
pushing themselves towards different
hearts and yet, we were the same.
Our love was the same.

You were my best friend.
My sister, buddy, confidant...whatever.

We would spend hours on the phone,
neither wanting to hang up, pressing
the number pad buttons to trick
the other into conversational submission.
We would talk about boys and girls
and why we were still single
and say why we would always
be there for each other and laugh
for being so corny.

"You know you want this..."

Your call came at 12:46am Friday.
There were no phony hang-ups,
no talk about being single
no crazy girls or heartbroken boys,
I couldn't hear your smile.

I heard your breath stagger
with the rise and fall
of your chest, heavy heart
beat off-rhythm and pushing
sobs, One of your tears rested
on the 3 button of your phone.

"Why me? What did I do to deserve this?"

You told me about parties
and alcohol
and his smile, small, defined,
how it turned into sharp eyes,
snarls, grunts,
how the fabric tore

and about cuts
trailing up your thighs
opposite the blood running
down your leg and about
bruises circling your eyes
and spreading to your hair
and about the hand
on your throat, his sweat,
his hands trailing your stomach
your fists struggling to set you fee
and about his thrusts
and your screams
and how he goes back to smiling.
And that kiss on your forehead.

"I never even had sex..."

I never drove that fast,
crossing the plains of central Missouri,
telling you I'm on my way.
The world speeding by,
all i can see is your tear on the 3 button.

Where was I? Where was I
when you needed me? Where
was I when he blew smoke in your face
and smirked? Where was I when
the alcohol poured into your red cup?
What was I doing as his hands curled
through your hair and clenched,
drawing pleas of "Please STOP!"

Where was I when he forced himself into you?

WHERE THE FUCK WAS I?
What was I doing as thoughts of dates
and boyfriends became thoughts of predators
and prosecution and pregnancy,
when cries of "no" became null
and as you lost the last bit
of childhood you had?

Three hours away, wondering what time
I would go to sleep.

"He told me he loved me..."

I arrived at your house at 3:36 AM Friday.
We didn't talk about him.
We talked about popcorn and movies
and about sign language
and about math class, and fear of ourselves
and about church and about each other
and about the cost of gas and how there's
nothing between Kansas City and St. Louis
and how Lee's Summit isn't hard.

Everything but him. Everything.

There were tears in your eyes, barely
contained by bruised lids.
You said don't look away.
I wanted those tears to vanish.
I tied my eyes shut, wanting
to make your tears die
with the absence of light.
When I opened my eyes,
the tears had dried.
She said

That didn't help
I'm sorry
Don't be.
Why?
Just don't.
Are you okay?
I don't know.
Then I'll stay here.
Why?
To be sure.
Thank you for being.
Here?
No, just being.

Every bruise will fade.
She'll smile again.
I'll make sure of it.
Our love is the same.