—

we were still children

and we believed in friendship

the way you believe in falling stars,

in god because your parents said so,

in dreams so you'd tell them to everyone

but did you know

that dreams won’t come true

if you tell someone

so you stopped telling people

what went on inside your head.

we were eight.

soon

you realised

that it didn’t matter

whether you told people or not

because dreams were dreams,

and dreams just aren’t real.

you also realised

through weeks of sleepless nights

that you don’t always want

what’s in your head

to come true,

because it’s not always a nice thing.

we were still children

and you left the town.

we made a pinky promise

and hugged on the last day,

swearing that we’d meet

when you came to visit,

that we’d play pretend princesses and dragons under my jacaranda tree

and we’d go down to the creek to sing with the birds

and we’d play on my swing

and i’d push you because it was my turn to do so.

do you remember

the day you came back,

two years later?

did you forget

all the promises we made,

all the secrets we shared,

all the things we once said?

tell me.

was it foolish for me to think

that you’d have stayed the same?

was it foolish for me to trust

in our friendship?

was it foolish for me to think

you’d care to even look at me

when you came back

to this place?

i cried that night.

i was so young

and foolish

and i believed too much

in things that just weren’t there.

friendship,

like a childish dream—

but you learnt too soon

not to believe in dreams.

[thank you for the memories]