Ten years ago, that was it. The end of the line. Our words no longer rhymed because there was no thing we hadn’t been. We’d done it all. We’d been it all. Together, intertwined like two brave climbing herbs embracing the walls of young life. And that was it.

Life decided that way and asked me to choose between a knife and a ticket. The knife would cut the ticket, and the root of us two. The ticket would stab my heart and take me far away from you. I chose the ticket. It was for the best. Memory may be the last way of life, but is the lasting one . Nostalgia may be the last way of love, but is love that never ends.

Ten years from then… here we are.

It’s funny how you grew up and you still look the same for me. It’s like you needed to get bigger so that your soul could fit on mine again.

Maybe there’s indeed a reason for whatever this life is. Maybe time needs space such as space needs time. Maybe we needed this silence so we could remember not to yell.

Maybe we didn’t need ten years away from each other. Maybe all we needed was ten years closer to ourselves. Maybe all we needed was ten years of stories, to now have ten years of stories to tell.