Afraid

He buried his face in my hair—

it smells like strawberries and roses

he said,

and I think I could fall in love with you.

Why didn’t I notice this before?

I doubted

when I stretched out on the floor

of his bedroom—

a gray cat on scratchy carpet,

unable to find warmth in the moon’s

or the stars’

Rays.

And I waited for the film to develop

so I could be convinced

that he had held me.

And I knew

that I could beat him,

that I could win,

but I didn’t want to.

They’re erasing the stars,

she told me.

You weren’t looking,

so you didn’t notice.

They say it will make the wars end.

But aren’t you afraid?