It's easy to let glass stain from holding it up to the sun
to look through and see how pretty it looks in the light
you don't really register the change in colour
before the ink starts to taste different
and your tongue can't be held responsible

I took care of all the promises our younger selves crafted so carefully
blew them through straws into the waiting room for belonging
somewhere further down the line
speckled with all the possibilities the older us would follow through
bring to fruition with all the worldly knowledge we intended to collect along the way
scribbled down in patchwork scrapbooks
feathered with sketches of our pink penthouse apartment
outlined in crayon
cemented with glitter glue and grins

"best friends forever" can hold the same weight
as your last "I love you" to the wrong person

we don't talk about those ages anymore

when in each others company
we now engage in polite conversation
dances with small talk
punctuated with weak smiles and a pause

until the years catch up
bubble at the surface of old videos and photographs
bathed in laughter and "remember when"s aplenty

and we sit comfortable in knowing
we will never make new memories
as the us we have grown into

but the locks to the old one will never change
they'll always fit the keys we cut

together