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.