flying

i don't let my mind wander
anymore because it always
finds it's way back to the
old times.
nowadays, i sit on my swing
everyday and listen to other
peoples sugarcoated voices tell
me how to live my life.
my eyes are no longer
pools of honey, as you described
them on sunny days, 
they're more like muddy
pits of longing.
i don't miss you much,
and yet i still find myself
staring out the window and
rubbing the cool metal
of the necklace you bought me
between my fingers.
my hair is shorter now,
with side bangs because i
thought i might change myself
a little more than i 
i already have.
my mother tells me to
sit up straight and keep
my head held up high,
and i try, i really do,
but the sweater that you wore
once weighs me down,
and i slowly fade away
into the soft fabric.
i still chew on the mint
gum that you used to carry
around with you every day,
even if it makes my
eyes water.
maybe i miss you.
i miss the way you
made me feel, like i
was flying, the taste
of clouds on my tongue
as you smiled at me.
sometimes, you still manage
to make me laugh,
my facade faltering for
a second.
sometimes, i wish it
had been different. 
i wish i hadn't asked.
i wish that i never told 
you about them.
i wish we could forget
about it.
all of it.