it’s for all the times you screamed
“i hate you”
“slut”
“fag”
“liar”
after my retreating back
surrounded by the staring eyes and
judgemental whispers
of innocent passersby
in the hallways.

it’s for all the glares and
the exclusions and
the lies that
i believed
because to quote your own words,
i was “too naive to be useful”.

it’s for all the comments on my
figure or my
weight or my
grades or sometimes even my
family.

it’s for all the times you thought
my hair was ugly or
the freckles in my irises made me look diseased or
my shirt was for 6th graders
and wasn’t i embarrassed to wear those old jeans to school?
(no, not until you told me i should be).

it’s for all the times when well-meaning girls would ask
“is she bullying you?”
“are you sure she’s your friend?”
“do you want me to talk to her for you?”
“do you want me to tell a counselor for you?”
and i would laugh
because i thought they were so silly
so silly for asking
because of course you weren’t bullying me-
of course you were my friend, and i knew
for sure because you said we were best friends-
and you were never mean to me, i was just too sensitive-

but mostly
mostly it’s for all the times when you were my friend and
you squeezed my hand during that movie and
you did my hair for that party and
we would laugh for hours over the most mundane things and
you asked me to come with you when you were scared and
you needed my help to pass the math tests and
and
and
and when i needed you?
it’s for all the times you were never there.