Do you remember the
fragrance from the Frangipani behind our room
Told us stories of different
lands that we all knew never existed?
Remember how we sneaked in
dried nuts and put them under our pillows
To be strictly had, in the dark, during
those insane story telling sessions?
I remember them like I would a
favourite jigsaw puzzle from those days
Pieces you know will eventually
come together but not right away
I remember some songs, some funny
games, and fights we had over nothing
And how it all ended without a
warning and vanished behind the doors
Occasionally, I would read these
novels that had the two of us in the middle
They were us, with different
faces, different names and different stories
But I would ride through the
story like a desperate and wounded horse
That had to reach before it fell
on an unknown plot and bled to death
Your best friend left the country
and you cried because she didn’t ask you once
My lover walked out and I burnt
all his letters that we knew were seriously lacking
Under my bed, rotted a stuffed
bear that my second lover gave for a birthday
You poked fun at me, called me a
child and ran out of the room with your pigtails
You make me smile even without
intention and from that overwhelming distance
You and I no longer ask, call,
speak, wish, love, hate, cry, laugh, smile or argue
Lives were parted, with a
wide-toothed comb, possibly to untangle the rough edges
Causing deep lines, differences,
lack of interest and general disregard for each other
We turn defiant, annoyed, and
annoying, and let our egos take over as puppeteers
You walk in the snow, hurt your
neck, shiver in the cold, go months without money
I burn in the sun, hurt my neck,
reel under the heat and go months without money
It’s ironic, isn’t it, how in a
way we live identical lives without even asking for it?
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