She must have been an angel
too, because he told me I was
and that he couldn't love
anything less.
I wonder about her.
He doesn't tell me much.
Her name, where she lived,
she left him for another.
I found a picture
of her, but I can't remember
what she looks like since it was
only once, briefly, and when I try
to remember her face, I only see mine.
I wonder how much I'm like how she was,
and if that's good or bad.
Did she tuck her hair behind
her ears when she was nervous?
Did she giggle and slap when his jokes
teased or cry when he struggled
with his feelings?
Did her hand fit so well in his?
I don't even ask him about her
because I'm afraid he'll start
thinking of her and stop
of me. When he gets that faraway
look, is he thinking of when he proposed
and slipped the ring on her finger?
Or is he just planning for me?
®Written in 1995. Published in the University of Wisconsin- La Crosse's literary journal, Liar Lyre Literary Review.