Do you remember when we were seventeen?
I would write you poetry
folded up on lined school paper
torn from math workbooks that would have remained empty otherwise
(let’s be honest)
They were words I was too shy to share elsewhere
but craved sharing with you
You.
You were boyish and awkward underneath all that schoolyard bravado
you seeped soft praise and told me I was special
oh, so clever
You understood me.
you were exactly as you are today
except now you drink more
Me?
Well.
I had too much energy
all crackle and whip
You?
You understood me.
you were exactly as you are today
except now you drink more
these days I don’t write words for you
except for in my head
when I’m on the train
wondering if you ever think of me as much as I still do you
You.
In the early hours when you’ve had a few
I hardly call anymore
Is that bad?
I suppose, it’s because I miss you
but mostly because
I’m worried my cleverness hasn’t amounted to much at all
and your high hopes for me were in heavy vain
all these years later
I still so badly want to make you proud
You understood me.
(I wish you’d drink a little less)