if only.

If only it was because  

you were fifteen  

and I was thirteen  

but it wasn’t.  

Not really.  

I never told you.  

You didn’t ask.  

But you knew.  

And you stayed.  

If only you ran.  

If only you flinched.  

If only you saw the years between us  

and thought it was wrong.  

But you didn’t.  

You watched them disappear.  

If only I wasn’t so good  

at pretending I was older.  

If only you weren’t so good  

at pretending you believed it.  

If only your hands  

didn’t feel like questions  

I didn’t know how to answer.  

If only my silence  

had screamed loud enough.  

If only I could forget  

the way you smiled  

like you were proud  

of getting away with it.  

If only I hadn’t felt  

so special  

while being ruined.  

If only someone warned me  

that monsters don’t always  

look like monsters.  

Sometimes they look  

like boys who text back.  

If only it wasn’t real.  

If only it hadn’t happened.  

If only you didn’t know.  

But you did.  

And you stayed.  

If only.