We met at Pico’s Pizza,
a typical date destination.
He held the door for me,
and when he tried to hold
I let him.
He slid my chair out for me.
His eyes sparkled in the dim light,
and it was hard for me to remember
that he was my ex-crush,
not my crush.
“I’m glad I’m here
with you,” he said,
words I would have killed
to hear him say earlier that year.
But I just wanted to get to the point.
I tried not to believe his sweetness.
It was as artificial as the Sweet’N Low
packets at the table.