Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2017
I remember sitting by the river smoking with Tommy.
The snow melt had already carved a new pathway through the bank.
He talked about his friend who was moving to town, to work with us.
You were best friends since middle school, he told me.
Somehow I remember that conversation but I don't remember meeting you.
And here I am, writing poetry to forget how much IΒ Β need you.
Emma Brigham
Written by
Emma Brigham
271
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems