you didn't arrive until christmas eve that year.
you knocked on my door but i never answered.
how do i know it was you?
because i sat at that bay window and watched you do it.
i had the curtains closed
and i tilted them.
i was peeking through one of the sides.
i panicked because i knew you saw me,
but i told myself that you didn't really care.
this year was the year you had gone to 'big boy school',
you had been so excited for this since you were 9 years old.
you wouldn't stop talking about it then,
but now at 12,
you had no one to talk about it to.
i ignored you,
just like you ignored me.
and i know it hurt you.
because when you did this last year,
it hurt me too.
i saw you walking down that wide and deserted street we would ride our bikes on,
but there was no snow that year.
you stayed late into spring that year,
when my mother asked yours why,
she said that you were waiting for the trees to blossom.
they never did.
you waited for weeks,
sitting under that same tree for hours on end.
every single day.
and when they did, i opened up the curtains on that bay window
only to see you sat in a pile of the blossom petals and leaves
crying.
why were you crying?
pretty boys like you shouldnt cry.
