tell me what friendship means to you
i think they are as fleeting as they are forever.
i remember being young, only four or five. the kid i played with the most moved away. i still think about him sometimes, i hope that he's doing well.
i remember being young, i remember going over to a friend's house so many times, til one day i decided i didn't like hanging out anymore. we were so young. i can't piece her face together anymore. i still have a keychain from her house. i stole it the day we never came back again. it's blue and pink and purple flowers. i stole it to remember her by.
i remember girl scouts, i remember being on the robotics team. i remember their faces, i remember long days spent trying to build something that would amaze. i remember that night where one of us broke down and mother took me and left, sending a message later to a parent on why. (we didn't hang out with them any more after that.)
i remember being young, i remember first being allowed online. it has been years since all but one of these people has come back. i still miss them, of course i'd remember the people i threw my future away for. it was for nothing. they are gone. i left one final post, hoping they'd come find me, hoping we could reconnect. it's been silence for years.
i remember feeling soaring hope one day thinking that i might be near one of them, that perhaps we could meet; but it was wishful thinking at best and foolishness at worst.
i'm happy i was able to hang onto one of them, but i don't know if we're still friends, not after what happened. it was my fault (i either care too much or care too little and here, i did both) and i haven't stopped replaying it all in my mind. i want to get out of the theater, i want to watch something else, please.
i lost them and found them and lost them again and found them again and it's a cycle that feels like i'm breaking apart every time.
i remember meeting so many people online, platonically adoring them, getting so swept up in the wonder of connection that i forgot it had to end.
i moved to another site, and it didn't help. i got lonelier, because at least i had been making connections previously. this place was ripe with life and yet it felt like i was in a deadzone. i had only got it for another friend, and i miss them so much now.
it's not like i didn't meet people there. but it didn't last. it wouldn't last and i think i knew that much better this time around.
and yet i got attached. it has been 1395 days, 20 hours, 32 minutes since a friend of mine went on hiatus, and i just hope they're doing alright wherever they are. i don't think i'll ever forget them.
to the friend i did keep from there:
i love you platonically, and i'm so happy we've stayed in touch. i miss what we had, but i'm glad we still have something at all.
i'm glad we met when we met. i think you needed it.
i care like a dagger, i love like a trap. i sink my teeth into you and you sink yours into me. everyone i have met, i remember. we make ourself permanent as if we are scars; we are like glass shards, adding to each other, changing each other irreversibly. how many make us real?
(trick question; we always have been.)
you have a scar on your palm and i one on my chin. trace it. it's the echoes of us. you won't forget me, and i won't forget you. we haven't talked in years. i still think of all we built. where are you now?
i trace my chin. right here.
i'm glad i have those who have known me for most of my life. we talked every day and then we didn't and then we did. we have stories we created that we'll only know, tears that only we shed. jokes we'll always tell.
i knew you when we weren't young enough to know better and now we're looking back and laughing.
i know the layout of your house like my own, i remember your laugh, your hair, how you hold yourself.
you're a wound and a scar and i couldn't ask for you to be anything but. red is a pretty color, i'll gladly let it flow.
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I believe I knew some parts of you
before we ever met.
Before I held you in my arms,
you were there between my fingers
as sweet citrus tears.
The gust of wind, your laughter,
the windblown leaves, your hair unraveled.
Tell me, why do the petals budding
at the crack of dawn feel so much like
your fingers reaching out to mine,
reaching out to hold a hand when no one's prying.
I was gleaning one evening some trampled, dirt-covered seeds
sprouting unnoticed, when I noticed
the familiarity of a gentle unfurling
essence of your being.
Somewhere between then, and now;
between us brushing past,
and us standing still;
thinking of things neither of us can
completely comprehend,
I felt the linger that once hovered softly
over my heart on a crimson weekend.
What I mean to say,
is that I caught parts of you among all
those things beautiful and tragic
and unnoticed.
Things that doesn't beg to be seen
but will wither from desertion.
That mustn't need to be followed
but will appreciate being thought of.
And that maybe someday,
somewhere between tomorrow's daybreak
and the imminent handful of sunsets,
we will grasp that heavy thing as it is,
convincing ourselves to hold
on to the feeling of love that comes
with its destined farewells.
Because it didn't took me long to see
your staying as only momentarily.
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