1985


You and me
hand in hand,
eating Mary Janes
and having a real conversation,
even though I was only six.
I looked up at you,
and had never seen anything
so beautiful...
(I still haven't).
Golden sunlight
falling through your dark hair,
and you smiling at me
like we shared some big secret.
I guess that is who we always were,
even then.
I can still smell the sweetness of your perfume~
and the asphalt~
as the city streets and the end of summer
breathed down around us.
And yet, neither were quite there.
That moment was perfect.
That me.
That you.

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