an old new face

I saw you last night in the low café light,
Not the same glare from the schoolyard fight—
No sneer, no shove, no cruel delight—
Just you, and a laugh that didn't bite.

The years have turned your edges round,
Where sharp words used to echo loud.
You smiled, and something in me drowned—
A memory gasped. I wasn’t proud.

You once made shadows out of my days,
Tripped my tongue, set halls ablaze
With whispered jokes and sideways praise—
Back then, I swore I'd never gaze

At you with anything but scorn.
But now I’m torn.
Your eyes hold storms I want to weather,
Your voice, no longer wielded like a tether.

How did you become this quiet art—
A crooked grin that tugs my heart?
Is it weakness, longing, or just the start
Of old pain learning to play its part?

Am I betraying the child I was,
To blush beneath your softened flaws?
Or is this proof that healing draws
New maps from wounds and broken laws?

You used to bruise me just with words—
Now silence between us feels absurd.
I thought love was meant for kinder birds,
But here I perch, confused and stirred.

So tell me—was it always this way,
Buried beneath what you used to say?
Or did we both just lose our way,
And meet again, hearts in disarray?

Whatever this is, it’s not quite peace.
But it’s not war. And that’s release.
I watch you laugh, and feel the lease
Of anger lift. The ache might cease.

Or maybe it won’t. Still, I stay.
Crushed by the ghost of yesterday—
And strangely drawn to the part that may
Have hated me less than it tried to say