1. kiss a boy, two years ago precisely and step back

2. watch as he falls in love with another girl

3. move on- well say you moved on, act like you move on

4. don't move on- write it down in scabs and scars on lined pages.

5. physically move on.

6. talk to him again when he sits beside you, when he looks at you.

7. ask about his day.

8. care about it.

9. when he invites you over in the dead of night, when the streets are empty of witnesses- go.

10. invite him to drinks, only because you can feel his hand on your leg days later burning

11. buy the beer he recommends, it tastes like burnt weed in your mouth, but buy it anyway.

12. when he shows his room to your friends linger, lean against his desk.

13. laugh softly when his fingertips bounce against yours

14. wait for him to look at you.

15. kiss a boy. Now.

16. (wait. repeat?)

They told me to watch my step, the people, the shadows that brought me here-

(wherever here may be)

They told me to keep my eyes down or shut, that the stairs have eyes-

that someone I knew-

(something faking their eyes)

was watching me from the staircase.

It's funny in a way- the stairs go down, leading up to me,

but they remind me of my first home, carpetted and steep as I listen to the waves smash,

over and over and over against the wall of this cave,

I know I am not home.

I know these stairs so well though- these are where my siblings came from-

where my parents carried their infant selves up to our rooms.

This spot where I type- this is where I heard my parents fight.

Even as I stand here, waiting for something- for anything

I hear my history echoing from the bottom of the stairs.

I can feel the eyes blinking at my from the wall- from the railing.

but maybe I can peek- just for a second

I can look- I just need to make sure they aren't there waiting for me at the bottom.

I just need to look- just one second.

I won't be long