curled fingers around the neck of childhood friends

and, i mean, 
he has an adorable face
and i possibly just want to 
scoop him up and wrap him in a dozen blankets

but his eyes are red-rimmed
and i don't see him that often, 
and i remember when we were eight
and he told me he didn't want to be friends anymore
just because i was a girl and he was a boy

so yeah, as-hole actions in the past, 
he's sweet and we have quiet conversations
late in the night when we're sitting in our backyards
wishing that the sky was just a bigger star

and we see each other in the mornings, 
when the pavement is damp
and the clouds are heavy with thick fog
hanging over skyscrapers in the distance

and i'll admit,
we were a little odd as children,
walking in circles around the patch of my backyard
that we called the forest,
small feet in smaller sneakers,
laughing as though there was nothing else.

we weren't perfect, god knows, 
but maybe we could have stayed friends
but you hurt me when there wasn't much to hurt

and i can't bring myself to forget childish misgivings.

The End

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