We talked.
The deep kind of conversation
Where you tell me you love me because
I'm so wise.

And I am reminded that you won't love me in that way.

Which, I have come to accept.

In fact, I accepted
the moment you took your shirt off for Sting Pong.
It made me sick.
Actually ill.

Not because of the way you looked.
Your strong and fit and not a flaw on you.

But because it was like I wasn't supposed to see it.
And you weren't supposed to play those games.
It was like spin the bottle and
you went into the closet with recklessness.

I felt so sick
I left and paced and wondered why
I couldn't look at your face.

I wanted to go home.
I was so relieved you put your shirt back on.
I managed to play ball for ten minutes.
Sure, I forgot my sweater but I was so happy to leave.

My mother thinks it's because I'm in love with you.
But it wasn't jealousy.
It was concern.
And embarrassment.

You mean so much to me.
And I have come to realize that Ben and I love you so much
Because you are so pure.
You risked your purity yesterday.
And it was terrifying.  

I accept that you can not love me in the way.
Because I can't love you in that way either.

The guardian cannot be the mate.