we must be even, if we are here by Urooj Salar

I never liked country songs until I listened to them, 

and you never liked me until you met me, 

so I guess we’re even. 

And every few months, I find flowers molding in my textbooks 

and in all my drawers are those crushed paper swans, 

the ones you folded from my calculus notes. 
 

And it tastes bad but you like it 

because it feels the way they said it would on TV, 

between re-runs of old American shows we never finished. 
 

And you thought you cleaned up all the pieces, 

but glass is good at breaking and cuts when you don’t expect it: 

I tell you it’s okay your brother died because now your parents will love only you. 
 

And all I’ve ever done is measure things, like my grade point average, 

so I’m sorry I thought love could be split evenly into pieces 

like each of the five birthday cakes my mother cuts every year. 

And I never liked country songs until I listened to them, 

and you never liked me until you met me.