"I can't believe you have every Nirvana CD," I trail my thumb down the scratched plastic cases. They're dusty, because they've been in a box under her bed for so long. "I didn't even know you were a fan."
She looks up from the pile of stuffed animals around her, surprise on her face.
"Oh," she blushes. She crawls over to be and takes the dusty box from my lap, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I almost had forgotten about this. I went through a grunge stage in high school."
I stare at her, an eyebrow raised. No way. This is a girl who wears pink sweaters and dances ballet and likes fluffy animals. Grunge? Ha!
"Really?" I laugh. She shakes her head, smiling.
"You don't know everything about me, doofus." She playfully smacks my arm and scoots away, back to the lumpy pile of worn-out stuffed animals.
"This place is so different than your apartment." I say, taking another glance around the room. It's like a childhood frozen in time, the doll-stages, the boy-band stages, the awkwardness and hormonal rollarcoaster-ride plastered all over the room.
She doesn't answer me, but wistfully looks up. I can see the nostalgia written all across her face, but I can't see the memories and that bothers me. I want to know what it was like, even if I've known her practically all her life.
She fishes through the soft pile around her and pulls out a honey-gold monkey. One of it's button eyes dangles dangerously by a fraying thread.
"Remember this?" She asks. I don't. "When we first started dating, you won this for me. At the Delta Fair. I named it CJ, after you."
I still don't remember.
She looks away, her arm dropping to her side.
"You were on something, though. It wasn't much fun, except I got him out of it."
Oh. I actually feel shame.
She drops the monkey to the floor, but the loose thread of the button eye gets caught on her ring and it yanks off her finger. She yelps and dives for the monkey, angrily and desperately trying to untangle the ring from the thread.
I go over to her and lay a hand on her shoulder. Gingerly, I tug the monkey and ring away, and start to work on it myself. I have the ring untangled in a few seconds.
"Here," I say, holding it out in my palm again. "Easy, you just have to keep a level-head."
"Thanks," she says, her face flooding with relief. She slips the ring on her finger and kisses me. "I love you."
I smile and kiss her back, and we roll around the floor, laughing.
Maybe she's right, maybe I don't know everything about her.
YOU ARE READING
BURN (Wattys2015?)
Poetry"Poetry...is thoughts that breathe and words that burn."--Thomas Gray "Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." --Leonard Cohen Poems on the tough stuff in life. Poems on the crazy good stuff in li...