The last time I saw you, we shared a cigarette in the backseat of your car.
We tried so hard to hold onto our youth.
The last time we spoke, you expressed your condolences.
You didn’t know what to say when I told you my mother died.
I don’t blame you.
It’s been 5 years.
You wouldn’t recognize me anymore.
I’ve grown up. I’ve grown wise.
I’ve grown tired and angry.
I don’t think of you often.
But when I do,
I miss you with everything I used to be.












