Four Quarters

mornings with you were mist and giggles

singing and side-eye

never truly understanding

what our little nicknames might mean

cinnamon morning buns rising in a massive oven

homework spread out across a whole table

empty cafeteria at five AM

coffee and capering as you smirk

laughing eyes behind the sunglasses

you’re still wearing inside

smacking your lips

the flavor’s about to be perfect

though, I know you aren’t for me

I’d relive every day ten times

slow down

revel in it, try to love

more patiently

K.B. Silver

༄˖°.☕️.ೃ࿔📚*:･༄˖°.☕️.ೃ࿔📚*:･༄˖°.☕️.ೃ࿔📚*:･༄˖°.☕️.ೃ࿔📚*:･༄˖°.☕️.ೃ࿔📚*

I have had to accept the fact that the best friend I made when I first moved to California and was going to college (I was pursuing library science, and she was studying culinary arts), I held stronger feelings for than I wanted to admit. Looking back, I think it’s possible she felt the same for me, but I will never know now, and it doesn’t matter since our lives have progressed to such different points. We haven't even spoken in years.

What I do think matters is that these are some of the only truly good memories I have left. One of the only people I don’t have bad memories tied up with. I am not suspicious of her or her family. I just have love in my heart for them, even if it has faded to a nostalgic, rosy hue. That is exciting in itself. I don’t exactly have that feeling with many other people or places. Most everything else has either faded away entirely or turned to a grimy, fogged-over haze.