Recycled Friendship
As I looked at that photo of you
I saw:
The crazy sleepovers, watching as many movies as we could before falling asleep.
The surprise birthday parties that we could never quite keep a secret.
The letters we wrote, telling the other just how much we loved them.
Then I saw:
The dirty looks for reasons unknown from the other side of the room.
The words you wrote to us, blurred by the tears of anger and disbelief.
The secret alliance with thr wrong crowd, marking the end of our recycled friendship.
As I looked at that photo of you
I felt:
The overpowering sense of trust when we shared our deepest secrets.
The satisfied sick feeling after eating countless pieces of cheap chocolate.
The radiating pride in my chest when I said "She's my best friend."
Then I felt:
The crushing ache of betrayal when our trust was broken.
The individual stab of each and every lie you professionally smoothed over.
The wave of sadness when I could no longer say "She's my best friend."
As I looked at that photo of you
I heard:
The DMCs which made the boys angry and ended with us crying.
The hysterical laughing at the most inappropriate moments possible.
The lines to our favourite movies that we could recite off by heart.
Then I heard:
The sarcastic comments you seemed to think were hysterically funny.
The whispered gossip behind our backs you assumed we didn't know about.
The selfish, stuck-up attitude you developed from being with her.
As I looked at that photo of you
I watched:
The remains of our friendship fall away.