The things I miss most are:

Sitting by the cherry tree with you, branches decadent with petals and blossoms spilling onto the ground

Drawing on the bench way up in my yard and listening to the crickets sing love serenades to partners hidden in the grass

Telling secrets as friends and partners in crime, not as lovers and unstable atoms

Walking the highway running through the mountains in Colorado, sipping Gatorade like fine wine and waving at cars that flew past

Sauntering back to the cabin while everyone yelled our names and searched for our souls on the snowy roads that wound around the bases of mountains

Sitting in the practice rooms and switching saxophones for the day, confusing even each other with who was who, being the same person at heart

Getting on Facebook and scrolling through my friends to find you and message you the days' troubles, talk to you about your
dad and your
mom and your
sister and your
life and the
sunset that dripped off the canvas of the sky that evening


I miss what we had before we were more than friends.