When a girl showed up
She didn’t know
She wasn’t wanted
But her skin knew
So through the years the message traveled to her heart
She could still pretend better than anyone
She could forget and forgive so well she deserved a little trophy
Until he said it
Over tiki drinks and tears, “I didn’t fight for you. I didn’t know what to do with a girl.”
Like one hundred spinning tiny painted cocktail umbrellas (doubly stolen)
by this tropical themed bar,
she felt them pierce her
she didn’t move
hoping this moment would disappear, that her eyes wouldn’t reveal the soul ache
of this truth
that truly didn’t need to be said.
Stolen was the experience of her being loved by him.
