We were children engulfed in our innocence. We never measured risks, never thought about a future we were never fully ready to commit to. I loved you at a time where love was the only thing I knew how to harvest hope in. I placed too many dreams in your empty hands, too many expectations for the things I wished we’d become. We never did become. You went on with your life as best as you could and in my own ways I did too. Sometimes I still think of you. The war we fought with the world for something we both knew wouldn’t last. The battlefield we stood on opposite sides of and how much of our saving came from the disassembling of everything good that we were. I took your innocence. Somewhere you are still running with mine. We could never get back who we were then. No matter how hard we’ve both tried. I look at you and your walls are higher than the last time I ran hurdles over them. I don’t speak openly about love anymore. Sometimes I still think of you. I hope you know that there is still a thousand things that drag me next to you.
