The Breakup

I can’t be your friend anymore

I said

clenching my jaw which

I’m painfully learning

in some cases

is better than biting my tongue

I’m sorry, I said, though really,

at this moment, I’m not

But I can’t be your friend anymore,

because you refuse to hear me

when I say I cannot

keep storing your king size bed

in the  tiny urban apartment

that I now share

with my boyfriend

and besides 

keeping it this long

was never the deal

Now that sounds just silly

but it’s not.

Our friendship

began when our parents

would lovingly lay us down on their

king size beds in one another’s houses

so they could share dinner and laughter downstairs

and we would creep like burglars to the top of the stairs

to eavesdrop and giggle and imagine what

it’s like to

be a grown-up

The thing is

if she cannot even try to picture

what my apartment looks like right now

then she isn’t even trying

to imagine

the grown-up me

Copyright September 2012