Old Friend

Sun, 08/11/2013 - 03:15 -- vfr3y

We walked down the old railroad tracks

when the rest of the town was asleep.

I waited winter after winter to see

the stream you both talked about,

but we’d only ever visit it in the heart of summer.

We didn’t care about anything

except music, making messes, and sleepovers.

Old Friend,
I still remember you.



We walked home together after school once

on a day with blue skies as beautiful as us.

You showed me a shortcut I’d never before journeyed.

Your bubblegum pink shoes contrasted
against the lime green grass as they walked past

old churches, vast fields, and questionable suburbs

with me, your old friend.

Old Friend,
 I still remember you.



We walked away from each other

indirectly, unknowingly at the time.

You desired to keep me a secret,

and you descended downward instead, 

choosing an old friend who pushed you around

and pissed you off

like the times your mom and your brothers

smoked pot in the basement

and would pretend you didn’t have a clue.

They left you behind the way you left me behind.

I desired to take steps toward brighter things,

things that were

yellow

and 

white,

your favorite colors.

Old Friend,

I still remember you.

 

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