That evening, I go to Adam’s.
Mom says okay even though it’s a school night.
Feathered sunset clouds float me down
the city streets.
Says his parents are gone,
leads me to his room.
He used to be my North Star.
Always there,
giving direction.
Lighting me up.
Now when he kisses me
it feels all wrong.
I tell him
we need to talk,
I’ve been keeping something from him.
He nods.
I tell him
I’m no longer editor
of the yearbook.
His brow folds in confusion,
considering my words.
I tell him how stressful Senior year has been.
It was too much,
I had to let something go.
He says that doesn’t sound like the Mira he knows.
I nod my head,
tell him I’ve changed a bit.
One truth at a time.
Then he smiles at me,
says he’s glad I told him.
Says he feels like he’s changed too.
College is harder than he thought it would be.
We lie down together.
Eyes locked.
Our bodies move together.
This time, I’m ready.
Adam slides the condom on,
says he loves me.
A siren wails outside.
A phone rings.
I breathe in his Tide sheets.
Stretch my neck to find
the sky,
those feather clouds.
Look into his eyes, my past,
let him sink
all the way in.