middle part

calling each other 

by the names we

wished we'd had,

you and I were boyfriends.

pawing at our overlap 

two tomboys in the mirror

brushing our adult teeth,

we slicked my hair back

marveling like new parents

at myself again

a promising young man.

i parted your curls down the middle

asking through laughs 

how yours would've

worn his hair and

you slapped my hand away,

like a bee had stung you.

kneejerk, primal.

our reflections stunned,

me horrified to have

pressed a bruise

you blushing to have 

revealed it.

I don't like that 

you mumbled.

and we didn't talk about it again.

after we lost touch

I would think about

all the wounds

we unknowingly grazed

in each other

unaware of how many more 

we would open,

wondering if any have

closed since.