I am so sorry that 

I am hurt. 

 

I tread so lightly,

always mindful

of the social hierarchy.

I take note of the

power you have. 

I witness the conversations you indulge in, 

the way your face lights up

while I am left in the dark.

 

In the dark, I dream

of the days where I laughed

in the used car parked in

the convenience store lot. 

We indulged in brightly colored frozen drinks 

and crazy straws 

bearing sugary bliss to sip on.

I only remember the sun shining

so brightly. 

 

I am so sorry that

I am damaged.