Poem for a friend I miss—but not that much
Man, I hope you remember the time we rode our bikes to
the outlet mall & swept through the kiosks like a thunderstorm.
I hope you know that at the time I still loved you &
probably always will. I hope you know that I never meant to make it bad.
I hope you don’t think I’m still angry, even though I am.
I hope your fingers still know how to clasp the bracelets we bought
at the farmer’s market in September, the silver twinkling against
your wrist like so many tiny flames. I hope you regret what you did,
& I hope one day I’ll stop feeling the shame of it. I hope you remember
the time we danced through your grandparents’ cabin like
two little wildfires. I hope one day you get to meet my boyfriend.
I hope we meet for coffee when we’re thirty & you ask me,
Isn’t this good? Can you believe how we wasted all those years?
I hope you’re happy & I hope you don’t know how much bitterness
I am capable of carrying. I hope you think of me as happy, too.
I hope that, even now, you would still answer my calls. I hope that
you remember when we were fifteen & you dug your thumbs
into me & sucked out all the goodness. I hope you still think about me
when you hear the songs we both like. I hope this keeps happening:
that I will think I’ve forgotten you entirely, & then all at once I will
write you another goodbye. I hope you know I still wonder about you,
only at night. I hope you know that I’d take it back. I hope you know
that there is still that pang of absence. I hope that one day I will
love your daughters as you do—I hope that you will grow into something
better, & that I will too. I hope you know that we were both just
children ourselves. I hope you know that I didn’t do any of it on purpose:
not the coldness, or the hatred, or the revenge. I hope you know that
I’ve forgiven you. I hope you know that if you said you were sorry,
I would say it, too. I hope you remember us as we were: tiny &
vicious & pulsing like a thousand little fireflies. I hope that when I
say how much I’ve missed you & ask to catch up, you won’t tell our friends.
I hope we’ll gossip to each other about all the time we missed. Oh, I kissed
a boy. Oh, I fell in love, only for a month or two. Oh, I have been fighting
for so long & I think I am going to change my major. I hope that
we will never hurt each other again, & that when I look back on it,
I’ll be able to say: Yes, you’re right. Yes, this was all so good.
Theo Wylder is a young poet currently living in the American South and thinking incessantly about want. He is a student and spends most of his time writing or studying, but when he’s free, he enjoys a good Stephen King novel.