Prehistoric.

Is it possible to only exhale
questions when the breaths we take
confuse us more than comfort us?

I miss the old you- and yes, I believe
we keep the heart we've always had
but that we can shift when Time
creates plots we cannot graph
right away.

The very first day of high school,
you stood beside me as we took turns
trying to crack the code of our lockers
and mapping out sneaky ways to get to
class on time.
You were the confidence I never knew
at fourteen years old.

And I realized you were more than the
silliness, nonchalance, ease you echoed...
but ask me now to collect those memories
and string them through a scrapbook,
I cannot.
They have been obliterated because I
don't know you anymore.

Trust me, you weren't my friend simply
for your lively, amusing company.
There were more to the smirks, the hand
waves, the light-hearted conversations.
But four years have passed and I still
can't put definite periods after
my thoughts, when I am
remembering you

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Written 7/15/13 @ 6:38 PM