(no subject)
and she proposes theories
asking unanswered questions
suggesting life is but a catalog of memories
and each day we flip to a new page
thinking we're creating the moment
when really, it's just being remembered
and they lay quietly dreaming out loud
as the hours of night flee like a scent through the air
an aroma that is scrapbooked in the page being played
all the while they speak of things that contrast and contradict
knitting their thoughts together like adults
but with an openmindedness and idealistic nature of youth.
for earlier this evening, they had constructed a fort
using sheets and blankets that made them feel like children.
and now, as they wonder this moment, what the future holds...
they feel so very vulnerable, so meek, so cold
"you realize when we're thirty, we won't be friends..."
the words play like shrill piano cords in my head
she speaks again "do you think you'll remember me?"
and i think of the fleeting memories that fade into just a blur
"of course i will. i always will."
yet quietly i share, "but will we remember this moment?"
and i look up and see a canopy of sheets overhead
i close my eyes and listen to the five cd-changer
as it revolves and clicks, about to begin the next disc
and we pretend we're just children
then after only a few hours of sleep...
we wake up and pretend we're teens.
destined never to grow up.
sam<3 we always have amazing talks in the middle of the night. iloveyou.