I remember a Piscean
Slippery as a fish like the name would tell
And always searching for more, for a way out
He smoked crack and crashed his car like they were coming-of-age milestones
And when he didn’t want to talk to me
He just played me Chopin instead.
Hunched over like his gift was shameful
Eye-contact was an exotic place
We went there once or twice.
We made love in the loft above his mother’s room
Or at least we tried.
You smoked my cigarillos like you couldn’t wait for them to be over
But you always wanted more.
We were going to run away and be nobodies
And we were well on our way.
You changed your name to be different
You accused me of mediocrity
And it hurt, coming from you, the one person who understood.
I couldn’t help it – I was better at fitting in,
Better at faking it.
I’m sorry I left you behind.