Boyfriend,

I remember how the paper with your number 

felt in my hand, a scrap

that usually slips through my fingers, 

easily misplaced, now seems rough, 

a lump of coal, the weight of consequence. 

I remember telling myself, Kayla is usually right,

but struggling to piece together when that was true, 

a memory like a collage. 

I remember getting home that day wondering 

if putting your number into my phone was worth it.

I did and that’s what led me to this painful beginning, 

the first text I sent you, little more than hi, 

your response was exuberant, 

making me question what I’d gotten myself into. 

I remember the hour-long talks, 

how I loved every second of it. 

and how I felt comfortable talking to you.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

I remember you keep calling and 

I keep answering. 

I remember thinking

we were more than just friends. 

I remember time proving me wrong,

things I blinded myself to, 

things I didn’t want to see as a threat, and just blew it off as normal

like arguments over nonsense and how you handled little conflict

I remember thinking I had my first boyfriend, 

and I couldn’t wait to see what happens next.