you know i’ve exhausted the idea of not being your friend.
remember when we were close and little girls
who thought they would cohabit when they were older
and weren’t we a mess with our sleepovers and jokes?

you know i’ve grown tired of being bitter and ashamed.
the blame game can only keep me untamed for so long.
remember when the growing pains struck, at least i did,
and our horizons were broadening on opposite sides of town?

you know i’ve gotten sick of the want to ignore.
remember how our mothers and fathers used to speak
and they didn’t stop out of anger or disdain,
so nor should we.

you know i’ve grown out of the resentment.
remember how it used to fall to the floor until i used it as a weapon
to inflict upon you the same hurt you caused me?

you know i’ve exhausted the idea of dying on this hill.
remember when we used to run down yours
or wish to sled instead,
and how the snow was streaked with brown sticks,
as we found little trinkets left behind and kept them as our own?

you know i’ve forgiven every minor error.
remember how we said we’d know each other until we were old,
forgetting kids and just spending our time together,
how we’d never be separated by the roughs of changes?

you know i’ve tired the idea of writing poems for you that you’ll never read,
knowing i’d dedicate myself to you again in a second
but being unsure if you would ever do the same.