We recycle friends like old passwords.

We talk whenever we need to be talking.

But what about all the space in between the words. That we never talk about.

What about all the secrets, you whispered to me

Long ago.

I knew them so well, we sat there on the red swings

Swinging into the sky.

Wings growing from our outstretched hands

We flew so far high and drank the clouds

Woodchips on hands, crashing against our teeth

We lived in between each other.

And crossed rivers flowing from our minds.

Bridges were caves

Trees were castles.

seven and alive

We were the kings of that glass world. 


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