For old times' sake, won’t you pull back all you have shed so that you might see me again in the light you once did before? Back when you were kind and gentle, and your eyes met mine when we spoke. For old times' sake, won’t you soften your voice and tell me everything will be okay? Tell me of simple things that happened in your day. Tell me of the first time we met and all the unspoken thoughts you had that fill me up with young, innocent joy to hear.
For old times' sake, find sleep on my chest until you awake in the night only to remember suddenly I am yours and you are mine. I always loved that look of surprise and excitement that took you over in those moments. As if you had been dreaming of me and for a brief second between sleep and waking, I was taken away, but then no, there I was, true, whole, and yours.
For old times' sake, rejoice with your mother over a boy that fell so suddenly into your life. Tell her of his eyes and his laugh and all the small noticings that appear effortlessly when you first come to know a person. For old times' sake, build a future with me in your mind and don’t question any of it. See the family, the home, pick the paints and the neighborhood, and leave it as you once did—unburdened with realities and facts.
For old times' sake, pick up the phone and see me once more. It’s been a year now, and my mind is slipping from what it once knew so well. You are growing blurry, and I never wanted any of this anyway. Please, just for old times' sake.
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