TEENAGE DREAM

Wednesday, July 04, 2018 Cambridge, UK


"You've changed,"
you said,
"you're different."
These were the words you
kept repeating on the phone.

Seasons have come
and gone
since the last time we spoke.
It feels like decades.

But things happen,
and life moves forward,
and people move on.
And I still think of you.
Sometimes.
When that same song
we used to sing at the top
of our lungs
is playing on the radio
on my way home.
Alone.

Sometimes,
I like to sit on my bedroom floor
with my eyes on the words
you used to write to me,
the letters you send.
The ones 
I never did.

Picture after picture,
our smiles bright,
happy,
forgiving.
The echo of a friendship 
still clear, loud.

The ghost of a past,
that still haunts me.
Like the smell of chlorine,
or the rides back home.
Like the taste of iced peach tea
in our mouths,
and the long nights
sweating in the summer heat,
singing in the night's breeze.

Like old
Katy Perry songs.

"You've changed,"
you said.
"You're different."

But aren't we all?

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