the girl with glasses

I missed you today,
small blond girl
small pink
red
blond girl.

It finally happened
I missed your glasses.

It was as simple as that,
I placed my chin on my left hand
I pushed my glasses up with the back
of my fingers
and I saw you
adorable and cruel,
the Sylvia Plath of soft skin,
the serious look as you scratched your nose.
It took me long years to relate to your allergies.

maybe because I read her,
maybe because it's long over
due

Our friendship and
a thick book of quotes,
the rushed instances of activism.
Like the water died
from a red dress
washed for the first time.
red, but not quite
Lovely, over,
and out.
clear is now, for my thirst
clear is needed, for some strange sort of
peace.

I can miss you;
your soft glasses
your acid stare
something lovely and acre in our past.
I can miss you like I can read
Lady Lazarus
and still be
alive.

I push my glasses up my nose
the way I learned from watching you.