“We won't be friends in two years”
was that fear or finality in your words
maybe the ending was written by us
but deep down, it still hurts
my mom asked me how you were
while we refolded blankets in two
i hate that i didn't know what to say
So tell me, “how are you?”
you knew how much i hated milk
and talking to people before ten
everyone except you, of course
but a lot has changed since then
you knew my irrational fear of dragonflies (at least that's stayed the same)
i never knew which scared me more
winged creatures or the thought of losing you
but that i have the answer for.
you were the first piece in the puzzle
my life fit its way around you,
but now that picture is complete
and i still can't see what it means
we were going to be neighbors.
in a foreign city, a busy street
you were always written in my chapters
but i don't know if i'm part of your story
we were writing letters to the future
erasing the past, but that's all that's left
hour-long phone calls, to unsent texts
what did I even expect?
a 20 minute drive, a phone call away
maybe it was my mistake, i hate to admit
but i thought we had all the time in the world
it wasnt nearly enough, was it?
we never ran out of things to say,
stories to share, memories to make
its 2am, and i can't help but wonder
if we always had this expiration date.