𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦

I seem to remember
things better than they
actually were.
I remember handing you
a cup of hot coffee while
we studied
in the library,
when in reality, I helped you
with algebra at the bottom
of the stairs after school
where I handed you
a crumpled water bottle
from my lunch bag.
My mind replays the days
in English where I would
chuckle beside you
during silent reading because
of a note you slipped me.
but really you had
slipped me a hall pass for
our daily lunch meetup in that
same classroom.
and per usual, there was no laughter.
I recall laying my head on your
shoulder when she died.
I can almost remember the way your
cologne smelled:
a saddened mixture of dried timber and
musty peppermint.
but it wasn't your shoulder,
it was his shoulder, covered in a navy
sweatshirt that I once believed I'd worn.
I only remember your cologne
because your locker and math notebook
were drenched in it.
I remember when we walked around
the library together.
you almost kissed me there
in the afternoon light and I was shocked.
but it was because
you'd tripped over a loose cord and
right into my open arms.
typical of you to be clumsy and typical
of me to have catalogued the memory
incorrectly.
however, there are a series of
things I can recall correctly.
Like how it felt yelling your name from
my place at the large, swinging gate.
and how I smiled when we were
alone in the batting cages and we talked
about school and how it wasn't
what we had expected it to be.
we once looked over the town we thought
we knew so well
and I said it looked beautiful and
you said, "like you."
that was the only time you ever said
anything like that to me.
you gave me your pen from that
baseball game in September
and I've kept it for all these years
just to remember that
someone cared about me more than
themselves, even on their birthday.
I remember that I'm 13 days older than you.
I remember that you hate feeling alone.
I remember that you hate
living up to everyone's
standards and ideas of you.
You have a horrible relationship
with your younger sister
and you didn't want me to move.
But above all,
I remember when I hugged
you for the last time in the
parking lot of the bbq joint we had always
loved so much.
and I said,
"don't miss me too much"
and you said ,
"I'll try"
and I smiled and held onto you for
a couple of moments
and neither of us let go.
and when we were playing tag between
the parked cars and under the
yellowed parking lot lights,
I thought I saw something in you,
and correct me if I'm wrong,
but I could have sworn what I saw
was you falling in love with me.
but maybe I catalogued that wrong too.

written on: july 23rd, 2020