Friday, July 18, 2014


i see your face. posed. posted. your eyes jump at me. so open and familiar.

and we're back in high school. english tests. essays. lunches and after school practices.

your arms are wrapped around a bicycle tire. fixing or wrapping tuning something.

your eyes. that crooked smile. 

and we're back in high school.

you look the same. quiet strength. self possessed.

and i'm reminded of my love for you.

you might have been my first love. the kind that ached and whispered truths. notes scribbled.

free and young and true.

the scary kind of jump off the edge of the world kind.

the kind that broke into my heart and left a permanent scar.

that kind.

it makes my chest ache, my throat heavy. i'm brought back to sweaty summer afternoons. wind whipping our hair riding bikes down quiet streets. standing with our arms raised. coasting into and out of the unknown.

you taught me how to write. to feel. to be vulnerable. to want more and expect more.
you bared your soul and fears. you folded your heart into pieces of paper and gave them to me.

i'm reminded of this. brought back to those narrow grass lined streets, with a picture. with your eyes.

1 comment:

  1. What I like the very best out of all of This That I Like is the phrase "you might have been my first love." The maturity behind that perspective of "do I even know for sure what my first love was? yea, probably? maybe" is so welcome. It's so Not Pat.