Reunion

I apologize
if I have forgotten
how our hands glide together
in the steady beat
of our stride.

I'm out of practice
of where to place
my lips when I whisper
the things not for parents to hear.

They don't let on
that i should believe
in love-
not at sixteen or ever-
They won't encourage "it"
but they won't stop
"it" either.

By "it"
I mean what you mean
and if that not "it"
please stop me now,
because I don't want to start off
with lies.

Remember
how we played truth or dare
And you were so true
I dared you to kiss me?
Remember,
you did so with honesty.

I felt "it"
when your fingers traced
my tears,
and later
as you told me what makes
your world black.

"It's" dark out now,
but tomorrow I will see you
for the first time in months.
I will be nervous like it is
the first day of school,
but it's been longer than summer vacation.
What if the other kids don't like me?
Will you trade the topic of sweaty palms
for our teacher's French styled mustache?
I need a good laugh
and a good smile.
It's been a while,
and the wight of this time
needs to be lifted
from our shoulders.

Best Friend

I remember
how we had show and tell
and you told
that in your new house
your walls were painted yellow.
You were happy.
Yellow looked so good on you.

I remember
in fifth grade
how your walls started to speckle.
The paint was chipping,
it was a long time
since kindergarten.

I remember
when I came to your house
and you had changed your walls to green.
You were happy with the color.
It was my favorite back-drop
for slumber parties.

I remember
how one night
you told me
that you wanted your casket
to be black.
In the flight light's glow
I reasoned for cremation.

I remember
when I got pulled from English class,
and was told the news.
The fumes from your
wounded red walls
had leaked into your brain.
I never got to help you
with the rest of the decorating.

Your walls were crimson.
Your face was white.
Now you sleep in a
seven by two and a half
solid mahogany
tomb stained night.