I’ve grown accustomed to catch up with you
every few months.
You tell me about your job,
I tell you about my new hobbies
Your eyes are darker,
more wrikles surrounding them.
You tell me I haven't changed one bit
but we both know that's not true.
You tease me again for my taste in music,
I laugh like a little kid.
Our conversation drifts,
You bring up the time I hit my head
On the zipper ride at the fair.
You laugh like a little kid.
You carry yourself different,
Always making sure not to say the wrong thing.
I have habits you don’t recognize anymore,
You don't bite your nails like you use to.
My hair is shorter this time around
something you told me I would never have the guts to do.
We’ve lived more,
Gone through different experiences
That have brought us here once again.
Then, in that moment, we’re both thinking it:
Why couldn’t it have been this way in the past?
We're different people who are trying to hold on to the past.
We’ve been saying goodbye for years,
This is the final goodbye.