every time a country song plays
I apologize and change the station
but most people don’t know it’s because
of you.

I was the new girl and you
were the boy whose first name
was also a last and I was intrigued.
In eighth grade you were pimply
(and you still are) but I thought
you were beautiful (and I still do.)
You were the first boy to call me pretty
and the first one to like me back
but as our hearts grew in love, our
fourteen year old minds grew
estranged, farther and farther apart
until today, now; we sit across the
room sharing faint smiles as I recall
the time you told me that you liked to
make me cry because it was funny or
a few weeks ago when you told one of
my friends that we were never a thing.

I recall everything, every song, every
exciting word whispered and I know that
You don’t remember at all.