When I don't call for weeks,
remind me of the nights I stayed up
to tell you what love feels like.
Remind me of the way the sun came through the tops of the trees
and hit our twinned-skin as we pedaled through the park.
Remind me of your terrible jokes
(you won't have to).
When I don't want to come home for Christmas,
remind me of all the times you wanted to sit with me
but would never say it.
Of all the things you never understood about me
that I'd never explain (even when you asked)
Like how I cried when we left New York
And why I hated Dad for so long.
Remind me that we're friends.
Remind me that through gritted teeth, clenched fists, and rolling eyes,
I love you