[L.M.]

It was a bad idea
But I liked it.

I was 11,
it was the wee hours
Of the morning
and I sneaked downstairs
Towards the wooden rack
Women’s magazines
have a strange allure to me
Silky flowing gowns
and articles for the modern woman
“How do you please the man?”
But I’ve read to be on the
Other end of it.

I was 15,
and it was prom night
we sneaked outside the gymnasium
In silky gowns & tough fresh heels
We hid behind a block of tetra packs & plastic bottles
“Move in closer, hold my hand.”
as we watched a teacher
Cheat on her man.

I was 21,
and it was a holiday
I was looking for a song cover
Took me a minute to think
But I messaged her
Two weeks later, I was on a bus
At midnight, and 150 miles away from
Learning how to go back home

I am 25,
and 100 days past
Living alone; perhaps, finally found home
in myself; perhaps, writing poems
like this, like you
Looking for nothing in the other; perhaps
just this, just you.