Last night we walked through our old suburb together
You stopped outside your old house and peeked through the hedges,
Stared silently into the nostalgia where someone else lives now.
It’s the second time we’ve done this in less than a week.
We went to the park and lay on the cold basketball court looking at the distant stars.
It felt like being nineteen again,
When we could drift away together without fighting or crying:
A sameness in our strangeness.
I was wearing her underwear with the pink flamingos on it.
She would smile if she knew.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Last night we walked through our old suburb together
You stopped outside your old house and peeked through the hedges,
Stared silently into the nostalgia where someone else lives now.
It’s the second time we’ve done this in less than a week.
We went to the park and lay on the cold basketball court looking at the distant stars.
It felt like being nineteen again,
When we could drift away together without fighting or crying:
A sameness in our strangeness.
I was wearing her underwear with the pink flamingos on it.
She would smile if she knew.
