i remember jumping on trampolines,
laughing until my ribs hurt,
eating popsicles that painted our tongues blue,
cleaning grass stains off my knees,
and falling asleep with the snap of a finger.
we said we’d live forever,
crossed our hearts and
drew plans in the sandbox,
the kind only two kids,
in the middle of a bright summer day
could ever come up with
and ever believe
was actually possible.
i like to say we tried,
that we entered the ring and only left
when we were too tired
and too bloody to continue.
i like that version of the story better.
the one where we went down
with the sinking ship in rocky waters.
the one where we fought the fire
until we had no water left.
that is the story i like to tell others.
in truth,
there was no fight, no boat, and no fire.
there was just you and me
soaring on swings one day
and the wind being the only one
to push them the next day.
blaming you eases
my childish heart,
bursting with regret and love
in that order,
but i can no longer deceive
myself quite like that.
one day we just left
a friendship for the ages,
forgotten like an old toy at the park.
Writer To Writer Literary Journal 