We fit, like a glove, for years together: arms that linked and laughs that echoed.
Platonic soulmates was the term we used, forever wasn’t promised but we held our time.
We had our moments – but who doesn’t – that’s what love is supposed to do;
and it was love, we trusted and cared for the other.
We told the truth when it wasn’t what we wanted, and we guided the best we could.
We were there for each other, when we had no one else.
But times changed and we went to different places, we met different people and saw different things.
You kept shaving your hair and I grew mine out, you prefer to drink and I became a smoker,
I want to teach and move to Europe, you want to study and stay by the sea.
You listen to folk punk and I’m more mellow beats, you want to be seen but I hate the light.
You became someone else, and so did I, our glove now unravelling.
I still love you and I hope you do too, but we are different people than the ones in our heads.
We were friends before and now we are… not strangers, like neighbours now.
I see you sometimes and I think you’re cool, we know the big things but miss the little.
I probably won’t see you again, but I still text you random memories, nostalgic together.
Like that time we fell asleep on the floor in the sun, and when we thought haunted dolls were fun;
like when I fainted in the hot sun, or when you panicked in the crowds,
and the party with your grandparents, because I preferred your family to my own.
Now you’re just in stories I tell my friends, in the memories on my socials.
You’re in the music I play when I want to remember, and the band shirts I wear to sleep.
Thoughts of my favourite glove that I outgrew, I hope you remember it too.
Image courtesy of Vidar Nordli-Mathisen.