we were sitting with your cello at one of the lunch tables,
passing the time by folding paper cranes as tiny as we possibly could
i gave up after the paper was reduced to the size of a fingernail
but you kept working with gentle deliberation until the last crease was made
and you presented me your minute handiwork, a crane the size of a pinhead,
a token of friendship.
i tucked it into my pocket.
later, i pulled it back out, only to discover it had been smashed.

-

your amber eyes were disappointed,
but you were too nice to reproach me.
instead, you took it back into your hands and tried to fix it
but it hung limp, never quite as crisp and perfect as it once was
and it was my fault for forgetting and not taking care
i lowered my eyes, regretful for treating you that way
you were so good at everything, so sweet to unworthy me
i let our friendship fall, fracture into a wretched, broken-winged bird.

-

nothing was ever the same after that.
sometime during those months, you saw me for the lost cause i was
capricious but unsure, emotional but ineloquent, trying but failing,
awkward as a wounded crane whose legs tangled when she tried to fly.
sorrow was bitter and angry to me as you stopped smiling
and you walked away to better things in life
i don't know what became of the paper crane you gave me
but forgiving myself for pushing you out is harder than forgiving you.