Iris

i remember seeing you

laced-up all pretty in your new clothes

but your face

broken

your eyes

dark

without repair.

the judge asked you who you wanted to live with and you said me.

i knew you were going to say it but i cried anyway. not too loud. i didn't want to upset you.

when it was over

we went to the local diner.

i watched people watching you as you came in.

you must have noticed, you folded your hands in front of you and followed the smear of color that you knew was me by now. you wouldn't speak. we sat in a booth and i held your hands as my father drove away, leaving us to ourselves.

you whispered, "did i do alright?"

and i whispered, "you tried your best."

i leaned across the table and touched your face and i brought you close, meaning to kiss you but at the last moment kissing your forehead instead.

they are taking you back tomorrow morning.