tarnished silver friendship
i. to mom
i’ve learned not to ask if i can hang out with them too often
because even if the answer is not outright
no
it’s usually a full-blown
tornado
tantrums
tears
when i am told
you never reach the stars
you only grab the clouds and fall right back
down
do you want to be like your friends,
unsuccessful?
close your mouth,
i tell myself
but i can’t stop myself
from talking
   back

ii.
get into partners
normally
ready?
one
this would not be a problem
two
except i haven’t made eye contact with anyone yet
three
please, i’m right here too
go
looks like i’ll be
alone

iii.
i’m not used to it
this was never a problem before
when i was their friend but they weren’t friends
and now that they’re friends
i have been dropped
it’s okay
i’ll be with that guy over there
i’ll do all the work
which is fine with me
i’ll get the work done fast
i won’t have homework
but
i won’t have laughs and
i won’t have inside jokes
because i wasn’t there when you made them
at movie nights you stopped inviting me to
at phở lunches you stopped inviting me to
at sleepovers you stopped inviting me to
we both know i couldn’t go anyway
but it doesn’t hurt to ask

iv. to mom
i told you what happened
and your regret spilled out
like tarnished silver
you hadn’t began
polishing it
because you had whipped out the silverware too fast
because you weren’t truly sorry
your regret was ugly and brown and stained my hands
i knew it wasn’t going to help me
recover lost time