one

Maybe I love you.

Maybe I see you and think I wouldn’t want to be anybody else in the world when I grow up.

I look at you and see through rose-tinted glasses.

What’s that in your hand?

Why is there someone coming over?

Why can’t I tell Dad?

Why can’t I tell anyone?

Why are you telling me that what I am watching you do I am not really watching you do?

Why are you doing it?

Why did you bring me with you if I wasn’t supposed to see this?

Why don’t you call me anymore?

Why don’t we share clothes or food or time anymore?

Why don’t you ask me about my grades or how I’m doing in school anymore?

Why don’t you love me?

Why didn’t you tell me about grandma?

Why did I have to be your shoulder to cry on when she died? I needed a shoulder too.

Why am I always the person you come to when all your other people are gone?

Why am I comforting you on a friend's death when it's supposed to be the other way around? You weren’t there for me when mine died.

Why do you have to bring my father into everything? This isn’t about him, this is about us.

Why do you have to make every situation about you?

Maybe I shouldn’t pry.

Maybe you’re supposed to be the center of my life and you’re so far from it I can barely see you.

Maybe one day I’ll finally understand you.

Maybe I love you.

And maybe things would have been different if I still loved you.

By Shelbi Owen