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Remember Me?
by C. E. Clayton Hi, remember me? We’re friends. Though you probably don’t remember. It’s been so long now. We moved away, not for anything important, life really. You went one way, I went another. We were told we should. Education was the goal, the destination. Distance wasn’t supposed to be a problem anymore. Technology was going to fix that. All the social media in the world would save us from our loneliness. But I stayed right here. In this place, in this space. Glued to a phone, a screen, as if it were the window to God. I looked for you. Waited. Gave you time. Gave you space though you didn’t really need it, did you? Just sort of wanted it because there was something you didn’t know. Something you found only far away from me. Making it easy to ignore the phone and it’s flashing lights. Those lights were me, did you know? I was the satellite orbiting at night, waving my arms, flashing futile lights in the night. Hoping you’d look up, look down, pick me up, and say you remembered. Hi, remember me? I thought we were friends. But I guess it was hard to take my hand when I stayed here and you went there. I was a little too inconvenient to hold close. Did you ever learn what I did wrong? What was so galling about me in your life? I would have apologized, is it too late for that? I’m not sure it’s I who needs to say sorry but I would if it meant you’d look at me again. Flashing that big toothy grin like we were kids again. Was this growing up? Did I miss it by inches or miles? I don’t know if I even miss it at all. But I miss you. If I could roll back time, maybe I would. But I liked what I built here in your absence. This little shrine of memories I kept for you, for us. A place to visit when our ships pitched in the night, tossed on the waves of discord that follow in the wake of change. I kept it safe and dry. Did you leave me because I visited that shrine too often? Was I a thing you wanted to outgrow like high school uniforms? Hi, remember me? I am your friend. I loved the sound of your voice so much I asked for it to be there the day I found true love. I clumsily danced to your words from in his arms. For that brief night, I believed you had come back. That all those flashing lights finally got through. For that night I’d forget, ignore, and pretend that you didn’t want me. That when I was three feet to the left, you wouldn’t go to the right. It was too much work to turn your head, wasn’t it? Too much to ask of you when I wasn’t them. When I was still just me. I should have known better. But you were so good at fooling me. Of letting me pretend and hold on to that shrine. Letting me believe that yes, you were just the same. That nothing had changed. That we’d always be friends. That no distance, no time, had passed. All we needed was that call, that touch, that smile, and all would be as it was. Am I a fool for trusting you, believing you? Did you mean it but forget it once I was in your review mirror once again? Hi, remember me? We were friends. I just needed someone to talk to. But all I had to hold on to was apologies for being so busy. Did you think I wasn’t? But I always made time should you have come. I guess that’s the thing you ran from. I suppose it’s all right. Lying would be easy then, I wasn’t real anymore. I’ll try and ignore this pang of betrayal and settle into this new spot you’ve made for me. On the periphery, in the audience of your life rather than on the stage. My part in your play recast, you’re free of the history. I’ll applaud you, support you, and give you that thing you need to thrive. I don’t want you to worry about me. I understand people grow, change. But we had promised and I kept mine. I’ll try not to be hurt that you did not keep yours. I’ll write off this jagged edge of loss and give it to someone else, maybe someone who remembers me. I’ll still give you that standing ovation and if you don’t see me, if those lights in your life are too blinding to notice me anymore, I’ll survive. I’ll leave my hand for you on that floor. If you pick it up, I’ll make sure to hold on tight through whatever storm you find yourself lost in. I won’t ask you for the same, I know better by now, but it would be nice. Hi, remember me? I am your friend even if you have forgotten what it was like to be mine. |
C. E. Clayton was born and raised in Southern California where she worked in the advertising industry for several years. This was before she packed up her life, husband, and pets and moved to New Orleans. Now she is a full time writer baring her soul and hoping her readers understand her pain, love, jubilation, and/or fear. Her upcoming Young Adult Fantasy Series, "The Monster of Selkirk", is slated to come out early next year and several of her poems can be found on her website: here.
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