It is only late at night when these thoughts creep into my mind. The thoughts of you and I as we once were, and the fact that you and I are now no more. I do not feel sad when I realize that you are gone, but rather I realize that I miss you.
I miss the one-worded answers you uttered and that sly smirk, those upturned left corners of your mouth. Your hair, in the wind, strands of honey mess astray. I miss your attempts to say hello, the comfortable awkwardness between us. I miss the birthday card you made me in second grade. It was out of construction paper, tattered bits of blue, pink, a slither of fancy paper sloppily glued across the front, nevertheless with a marker-drawn heart I knew you tried to perfect.
Those are fragments of memories, broken and tattered, I know. But yet I cling on to them in the late hours of the night. Because silence makes me think of you, and when I think of you, I only realize how much things have changed, and how much I wish they did not.
