Every so often you'll have a fleeting flashback
of the two of you together out of nowhere, usually something so boring
that you can't believe it stuck out in your mind over all the other times you were with him. You try to remember every detail of the Homecoming
you took him to, but you know it's the little things like eating brownies
off his kitchen counter
and looking out his window
at the moon
while hugging his arms around you
that matter more than all the dances
in the world. Your sweatshirt
still smells like him for days afterwards, and you swear even the air
in your room does once in a while.
The top drawer of your desk is packed with your compilation of things that remind you of him. If you could you'd collect everything in sight, but you can't, and so your mementos consist of love letters, pictures, gifts, movie ticket stubs, strawberry lip gloss, and the dried-up flower that still smells beautiful after all these months.
You stay awake all night debating on whether or not you should call him. In the end you always push the phone under the bed and try not to think about anything for the rest of the night except for reassurance that he's probably sleeping or on the phone with another girl and you don't want to bother him. There's never anything you can think to talk about anyway but all the "why"'s and "but"'s and "what if"'s and "how come"'s, and you know he's tired of hearing them.
"We'd better still be friends," he said, and you didn't know what to say so you just smiled and nodded. When you turned to leave his bedroom you thought about your initials he'd carved into his dresser that you'd seen a minute ago and your names still written inside the heart on his mirror. His forgetfulness to erase you from his memory hurts, but the real sting comes when you think of how that was the very last time you'll ever see his dresser and mirror, and knowing that you'll never call him at midnight or kiss him or hear him say "I love you" again makes you want to cry.
And sometimes you flirt with other people. Sometimes you miss his voice. Sometimes you're all grown up.