the sacrifice of poetry.

[ the way i felt ]

i didn't feel this way when we first met,

the night i was in tears because of another man.

you were careful not to make me more upset.

i had no idea you'd be so important to me back then.

i didn't feel this way when we were with friends.

and it's possible that that's because she was there.

and the irony is that we had to pretend

to flirt with each other as a part of a dare.

i didn't feel anything when i saw you with her

or even the girls that came after.

jealousy was not in my vocabulary, as it were,

but that was an earlier chapter.

i didn't think twice when i met you that night,

two pariahs who had both been betrayed.

we spoke briefly before saying goodbye;

would our plot have changed if i asked you to stay?

i didn't blink when you showed up at my door.

maybe that's because you were with my brother.

i didn't go to bed wanting us to be more;

we were barely even friends, much less lovers.

i wouldn't have really called us friends until summer.

it might've been those nights in july

where your chivalry made my heart flutter,

but i didn't know it at that time.

i don't know if i felt something

that night when we were all drinking.

i wasn't used to the innocent touching,

but i also wasn't overthinking.

we got closer as a friend group:

me, my best friend, my brother, and you.

we'd spend time together from the afternoon

into late nights that i got used to.

i didn't even consider you in that way,

not until that night there were only three.

"i kind of like how it is with us," i'd say,

"we know there's nothing between him and me."

was i just trying to fool myself at this point?

was i denying the beginning of a feeling?

i didn't think twice about your voice,

much less what about you might have been appealing.

i don't remember when i realized it

or what had caused this revelation.

how could i ever predict

that, for you, i'd have this sensation?