The golden peach sun paints the viridian ground
outside my old cream colored apartment.
As my eyes adjust to the sight before me,
I remember when I met you beneath the
oak tree years ago when our eyes still
looked fresh like the crisp morning dew.
It seems like yesterday when our backs were
straight as the linear curve in calculus
you said I loved so much because it was
rational. You said it reminded you of my
personality—rigid and predictable
while you were full of chaos.
I know I was not who you expected
to have besides you, but honestly
we were stronger than ionic bonds
and unafraid to share the emotions
that stirred commotions deep within
our souls that taught us how to trust.
All of a sudden though, your eyes
faded away from what stood before
you as I struggled to resist changing
like the seasons in the South. You said I
was different, which makes me wonder
if I changed the parts of me that mattered.
Yeah I started to evolve and write rhymes
that I believed would help keep me on track
on this ride called life we used to navigate
together. Yet now we are captains of different routes
traversing different longitudes and latitudes
while I stare up looking for clues on how we fell through.
It’s funny how people are willing to lack communication
yet hope they stay in the mind of the other’s imagination.
We can’t recreate the past—we learned that from Gatsby.
But we can hit the green light and be a part of future memory.
I would align the stars simply to cross paths once again
so we could start over, embrace, and begin to make amends.