old friends

I flirted with the idea of her
before it was legal
to put my lips to a coupe
and crave the high of feeling numb. 

She was an old friend;
he, an older one.
He understood casual dependency while
she demanded commitment. 

I became a fly on the wall with her,
persistently imagined how different 
reality could be 
if he’d join me and alter it again.

I feared she’d no longer want me 
if I strayed. 
Another secret I’d keep;
a part of life I’d dread having to 
retell, revise, define. 

We lasted a little over 100 days. 
Silly and juvenile to count
what seemed like a milestone 
between temporary and finite. 

He was what never stopped exciting me. 
Each time a new introduction 
to a person so familiar 
i’ve always tried to love.

She was what kept me grounded
and kept color in my face. 
She kept my vision at its clearest 
and left my footsteps stable.  

I chose him over her; 
candy over mystery, 
because I’ve always had a sweet tooth 
and tend to run from uncertainty.

I’m not sad this one did not work out.
I’d become worn and tired and needed
new hands to 
twirl my strands of happiness.

He stuck around and did the break up dance, she packed up and left.
They are only the absence of each other 
and I await what her absence will bring. 

Victoria Crowe is a writer, editor and founder of You Might Need To Hear This. Originally from Queens, NY, she studied creative writing in San Francisco and has since moved to Los Angeles. She writes both fiction and nonfiction and finds her poetry is usually decent after a bottle of wine. Her work has been published in Harness Magazine, Herstry Blog, and District Lit. She is currently finishing up her second novel and afterwards plans to start her first.