YOU
WERE THIRTEEN, lying on her bed
swearing you’d be best friends forever. Nowadays you
barely talk. Nowadays you pass each other with your heads
shoved down, like strangers who are scared to make a noise.
The inside of her bedroom is no longer pastel pink; she no
longer wears her hair long. You can’t remember the
exact moment you stopped sharing secrets, all you know is
you no longer know her favorite song. You can’t
remember the exact moment things changed, or whether there
was an exact moment at all. But these days you pass each
other in the corridors and thirteen year old you wonders
what went wrong.
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