Do you remember
how you found me at that table —
it had been at least five years, no, more, seven —
and you weren't even looking for me, but there we were,
and you were different but still that girl,
I was different but still the one who loved you,
and I took you under that bulb by the bathroom
to catch your face in the shine?
I wanted you there,
fastened to my brain like a corkboard,
as always always always still that girl,
the one who scared me
and teased me out,
but I remained dishonest and spoiled,
a shadow shadowing,
covert and childish,
and I caught you how I chose.
I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.