I’m hidden in a nook like
a ninja peering over the top of a book, like
I want to catch a glimpse of you before college,
so I can remember what real friends look like.
Maybe I just made you up,
the knight in shining armor who’d never leave me forsook like
most of the people I know.
Who would want to hang out in the woods by a brook like
best friends who should be more but aren’t.
Texting on late nights leaving me shook like
an LA earthquake.
“Hey, Ashe,” and it’s not your name anymore, but it’s the one he took like
he takes everything you’re willing to give.
Maybe it’s your fault and a martyr is just what you look like.