A long time ago, we used to be friends
Well what is a long time ago? Less than half a lifetime. How we talked late into the night, stretched beside each other or whispering into the phone, or email with its glorious disregard for time and time zones. A friendship that ended and started and ended and started, each time sweeter, each time like finding something I'd given up as lost, my silver necklace returned to me on the tide, the sparkle through the water, the glint and hope and the waves pulling back to reveal what is more precious for having been lost.
But I haven't thought of you lately at all
This is a fallacy, since obviously I'm writing about you so I am thinking of you, lately. The late you, reverof enog. I think of you when you occur to me: hear you sooner or later on every eighties station, the smell of almonds from a roadside stand, hotel soap, the particular taste of coffee in the morning of a day that is not yet hot, but will be.
If ever again a greeting I send to you
Don't worry I won't, though your birthday comes and goes and my lips itch with what I want to say, the words that would unlock you, the key I could pass with a kiss. The only way to get blood from a stone is to cut your hands on it and my hands have scars enough. I have been one to hang about graveyards, rubbing my name off the grave, pressing forehead to headstone, but those days are gone. I only visit what I've buried in my heart, now. The dead don't know you're there, anyway, and there's no point in talking to them unless you're asking them to keep a secret, and you already have mine.
Short and sweet to the soul I intend
And what would I say, anyway? That I loved you then and still? You knew it then and probably now, too, if you think of me where you are; I remain consistent. I said run away with me then and I meant it, but if you had said yes we wouldn't have been running away together, we would have been running away from home, badly packed suitcases thumping against our scabbed knees, and every time I thought of it the suitcases became heavier and filled with more abstractions: partner, child, mortgage, responsibility. Finally they couldn't be lifted at all and it became almost impossible for you to even talk to me until almost was perfectly.
Come on now honey