Sunday, June 7, 2009

good (pt. 1)

Don't forget to remember me, okay? No matter what happens, where you are or what you're doing.

You told me I wasn't just another girl, that I, I was special. You said I had fire in my eyes and that when I danced the trees stood still and when I spoke they listened. You said "You'll go far, girl", and you stared into my eyes like they contained the answers to mysteries long perplexing.

I miss you, and sadly, I don't think you remember me.

Do you remember holding our breaths as we spun in a circle, each holding on to the others hands and focusing on the others face so that we wouldn't get dizzy? Do you?
Do you remember how you'd run your fingers through my hair and tell me it was okay, you thought it was pretty.

But those were just words, and I understand, if your world got bigger and your horizons widened. It happens to everyone, I suppose.

Did you meet a pretty girl? One with the deepest blue eyes and the silkiest brown hair? Did you stare into her eyes too, and tell her they held something (maybe ice? Fire sounds more poetic, but I do believe it works better with brown eyes than blue). Did you tell her that she was beautiful, even when she felt ugly? Or maybe she didn't feel ugly. Maybe she knew she was perfect, and flaunted it. Maybe she was better.

Will she go as far as you said I will, or will she go farther? What's the standard, boy?

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