2 years ago
I had this friend
Whom I have known for about 6 years now.
I remember just he and I were playing cards
Super late at night
Keeping each other company,
Having just admitted some past traumas to each other.
He started to speak
But then stopped
I asked him what he was going to say,
And he said that he'd been going to say something,
But I had started twisting my ring around my finger
And he knew
That I did that when I was anxious,
So he would keep it to himself
I didn't even realize that I did that.
I've never felt so known
I miss him.
Maybe we were in love in a way. I wrote poetry about him, and he told me that he thought I was beautiful. But we're no longer in love. I love him from afar, but scars and open wounds litter our skin from cutting each other, and we're better off apart. But that doesn't mean that I don't feel the urge to call him whenever I see a yellow house, or a set of cards or see blue moon beer bottles.