Let's build a grave, I said.
She nodded and started straight ahead.
We build together a camaraderie,
stacked it up with giggles and tears,
packed it up with memories and clouds.
There we go, the coffin is ready.
The grave cannot be called so until we leave, she
I agreed because that's how friendships work.
Neither of us agreed on the haunting, though,
the heavy burden of things left unsaid
and the innocence of undeclared love hanging
right above our heads.
The grave is complete.
Time conspires with memory and confuses me.
Nostalgia hit me in raindrops, and suddenly I'm
stuck at a forever afternoon class with her.
Giggling as we secretly eat snacks underneath
This is the grave of our love, it's not romance-
and that doesn't make it any less warm.
Some friends don't stay long in your life but
are neatly stored away in your brain, feeding your dreams.
Letting your heart go through a dull pain
that isn't painful at all.
Yet, carries a heaviness that can never be