My first instinct is to defend.
Can you blame me?
I grew up with boys.
I learned never to turn
my back on anyone.
As soon as you do you
might end up in a headlock.
At least by now we’ve all grown out
of wet willies and flat tires.
But I still keep my back
against the wall.
So how didn’t I see this coming?
Your masterpiece of surprise.
You distracted me with a magicians trick.
My eyes were on the hand holding the flowers,
that’s why they didn’t see it coming,
when you sucker-punched me in the heart.
The hit was violent. I fell
backwards onto gravel and soot.
The dust I kicked up, buried me
under the playground fears
I thought I had shed on the
sidewalk where we met.
What comes before square one?
Because that's where I landed.
Now the monsters I see out of the corners
of my eyes, are you.
Next time someone
reaches for my hand,
will I be able to pry open
these clenched fists?
Or will I involuntarily break his face?
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