on his profile i see his post
with a girl who shares my name.
another grace at another party.
he unposts with grace no. 2.
i uncry in the middle of a party.
he unleaves for college. he uncuts me off.
i unread his message
revealing he doesn’t want to keep in touch.
i unimagine his hands holding mine or those hands playing
his guitar as we laid on his beige basement couch.
he unadmits that he slept with our mutual friend, he
unsleeps with that mutual friend.
He unconfesses that
his feelings haven’t gone away. he unkisses me one last time
when we reunite. i uncry in his rusted
three weeks time rewinds of us not seeing each other.
he lets go of my hand and unspeaks his
final clichés. i unhear the “i will always love you”s and
the “i don’t want to do this either”s,
and my tears run back up
my cheeks and back into my eyes.
we are together again, i regain my
people untell me how great we are together and unadmit
me how happy they are that
i landed him.
we drive backwards out of the outdoor movie theater
my lips unkiss him for the first time. he lets
go of my hand. my butterflies
unflutter. he unsuggests
our first venture to Frost Gelato,
he takes back his debit card
from the cashier and unpays for me. he unstares
at me in rehearsals and breaks our met glances. I unblush.
he unshakes my hand and unasks for my name.
i unwatch him play at the drum set for the first time.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.