You

You used to wake me up Sunday mornings with a warm plate of homemade waffles with strawberries and place it on my side in bed. You would take me out to Japanese films I didn't understand but then we would walk through the west village while you would explain the meaning of Tokyo Godfathers.

You used to check on me every night to make sure I was alright even when you dropped me off at my apartment. You were my security blanket, I never felt afraid, laying in bed while my head was on your chest listening to your heart beat. You listened to me read my poetry about high school, summer camp and my days as a child.

You used to play soccer in central park as captain of the skins while I would giggle out words like eye candy, manflesh and make up male porn star names for your teammates with my girl friends.

You used to call me whenever it would snow and tell me to come out to have a snowball fight and afterwards we would have hot chocolate at your apartment with marshmallows.

You were at an open house at an apartment in the upper west side looking at kitchen. You talked about how the kitchen needed work and you wondered if one of the walls could be knocked down.

But you weren't talking to me but the girl standing next to you.

I know this because I was there and I saw you both and I walked out before you could see me.