ode to a stranger

I once had a best friend.

She was the weirdest girl i’d ever met.

She wore bronzer on the apples of her cheeks,

and smiled with her eyes closed.

We spoke in secrets.

Collected promises in our pockets,

and built memories out of swimming pools and couch cushions.

I loved your mom.

And hated your dad.

But I still went to his house every other weekend,

because you asked me too.

And you never said you were afraid of him,

but you didn’t have to.

You made me brave.

Taught me white knuckles and loose lips.

You made me laugh,

loud and unapologetic.

I made you laugh,

clenched sides, head back.

I don’t know when we grew up,

or when we grew apart.

I don’t know how we said goodbye so fast

or how we just let it go.

But I want you to know that I remember.

I remember how you said you couldn’t live without me,

I remember how I said you wouldn’t have to.

I guess I just want you to know that I’m glad you were wrong.