we were friends now. i think. all these years you turned everyone away from me. me, the brown girl. as if the colour of my skin was my only definition.
anyways, i guess you've changed. since your daddy -
it started slow. each word was a boulder we had to push towards each other, each smile a risk. the weather was a common topic, so was football. and dance. i loved dance. (oh how you would love to see me dance, soon.)
the jokes started midway through the year, the teasing and laughing. it was the good kind now. thank god. i was beginning to like having a friend.
but then you began looking at me different. you looked at me through hooded honey jar eyes. they were back to honey now, swirling and glistening and glittering like burnished gems. oh, god, how your eyes made me weak. you began touching me, soft strokes on my shoulders and back, down my arm and the sides of my thighs. each tap, each touch, each brush left poems written in italics, that my skin would sing at 3am under my sheets.
