he's like a less cute version of you...he's like a walmart version of you...but he'll have to do...

never again.
i won't allow your pelvic thrusts
and the bottle you keep beside your bed
convince me otherwise.

i saw it
as you sat indian style
in your tub of warm water,
the shower spitting raindrops
on the arctic creatures of your boxers.
i was sitting on the ledge-
like a mother, letting you pretend
my black painted fingernails were your sailboat.
and when you turned your back to me,
i stroked your soaked curls
and let my eyes trace
drops down the curve of your spine.
and when you nodded off
between sips of your waterlogged beer,
i wrapped my trembling hand
around your right foot and pretended
i was waking you up
from all your bad dreams.

i even prayed
that i could make the confusion
and pain and isolation
wash down the drain.
and when you awoke,
those brown eyes staring back,
i swear i saw a younger you inside-
before all the pills and doctor appointments.
i wrapped the towel around your unsteady body
and wished i could hug you-cure you.
and as i coaxed you to bed,
my first love, my most kindred spirit-
i wished you were mine,
that i could lay in your sheets, be your savior,
but i remembered all the dares
and sloppy kisses and fingertips
when we pretended to be so much older.

but never again.
the curse words and lighters and politics
couldn't fool me.
and as i tucked you in
i found i was the one dreaming
that adulthood could be found somewhere
in the scattered memories of our lives
and wishing this wouldn't be
the last time.