About A Boy I Knew Once

Seriously, I'm 12...

You make me physically uncomfortable
Like a thong
Like a night that goes on too long, laced with alcoholic visions and poor life decisions

You make me uncomfortable like the morning after

Uncomfortable like the first time I saw Jordan Catalano lean when I was 14
Or the first time your best friends shows up in your not so little-kid dreams
Or me trying to fit in to size 6 jeans

Like the first time you make a promise you know you won’t keep
Or sitting in the middle seat, admitting your defeat
Or the first time I let a new boyfriend touch my feet

Or like when you know you’re hanging out with people cooler than you
And wondering if they know too
Or when you still haven’t gotten your period and it’s day 32

Uncomfortable like biting my tongue when I know too much
Or Sunday morning exit strategies because last night I needed a touch
No not your touch
His touch
But I had to settle for a touch just to make this loneliness a little more
comfortable

Uncomfortable like the heart palpitations I get when I think about turning 25
Or riding shotgun with my best friend from New York who never learned how to drive
Or the impulse
To have our hearts broken just to know we’re still alive.

Uncomfortable when I hear your name and the word itself transfixes on my brain
Seeps through my veins
Causing the syncopation
of casual conversation
to come out in stutters

The anticipation of seeing you makes me sweat

And smile

And practice conversations we may exchange between our lips
Because this delicate dialogue is too scary without a script.

Uncomfortable like the secret we share
That under my palms of sweat and flirty glares

This concoction of curiosity and chaos
that is our trademark brew
I secretly revel in the joy of knowing

that I make you uncomfortable too.