Kimberley.

I miss you and all the terrors
our friendship demanded of us.
Months apart then finding each other
in the quirkiest of song lyrics, in
music your mom wanted to trash,
in skateboards we sketched yet never had.

I want to message you about poets I've
discovered, about the new Kate Nash song,
how it makes me want to dance like
we did on your cream-colored carpet before
your blood painted it splotchy,
before I had those nasty scars,
before we both knew what depression was.
How we used to share poems and
secrets of sex, electric yet so tragic.
How we never told your parents
that we stayed up all night for fear
they'd try to come between us.
How we used to listen to "Merry Happy"
and teach each other melodies
on that keyboard you took everywhere.
How I'd always point out and pay
special attention to the extra
"e" in your name, that no one else
would care to see.

I remember our first kiss shocked me
like I'd never tasted paradise before.
You called me "free" yet I hid away,
terrified of my own ignorance,
wondering how many years I wasted
coloring my cheeks with bigotry.
I ignored you and called you a mistake.
For months, I blamed it on the bubbly
and your tendency to take the lead.

(I could hardly admit it was the first
time my skin felt chemistry;
you quenched the dry parts of my soul).

I was frightened that you were better
than anything I'd ever known,
but then I realized, you had him,
and I wanted something to last,
not just the weekend meet-up
at the dirty hotel you were desperately
trying to earn enough money to
get out of.

(I think I could have fallen in love
with you).

I want to reach out and call you,
because really, it was my fault.
I let politics separate us.
My words turned ugly and
my mouth formed war zones.

And really, how could I forget you?
You were the first girl I kissed,
pink moscato and talk of lingerie.
How you loved your bubble baths
and trips to Lush. How we flirted
with typewriters and memoirs and
colored pencils.

We have a history that I still can't
unravel. I met you when I was a freshman
auditioning for a play -
I wasn't honest with myself and now
I fear I'm entirely too honest.
You have him and I'm left alone,
wondering why you never mentioned
your addiction,
wondering if I really would have been
that judgmental since I had plenty
of demons fighting to take control .

I know I can't chase you down
after the hell we've both barely escaped,
but some days it hurts to know
that so many things binded us,
both toxic and pure.
We chose to live in a reality
that endlessly exploded into chaos.

I guess, this time, I'll have to learn
how to liberate myself...