Aftermath

I don’t want to forget the way you said “Come over here.” The way you looked at me, the way you smiled, you leered. You kissed my neck and wiped the spit. I fell hard, I took a hit. My spirit whines, my voice shakes hard, “Can we still be friends?” on a white school note card. My friends all knew, no one understood, I cried a lot, “What we had was good.” I cut my hair, it’s there no more: “He liked her with long hair so she cut it short.”