There's a bittersweet taste to imagination when I think
about a conversation we might have
months ahead of now, when we've both had climbs and falls
(I'll probably have more the latter, overall)
and it will go along the lines that go like this-
I think about it sometimes / yeah, me too / I still have that book /
which book? / the one I borrowed / oh, yeah
and I didn't throw away your toothbrush / me neither -
then maybe one of us will even say something along this line-
I won't forget the good times
and the other of us will say the same and it won't be a lie -
I've met someone / me too / it was great seeing you /
definitely, we'll do something / yes, for sure -
but that might be a lie
and eventually the promise not to forget will break
as we grow up and grow different
and become people we never had any intention of becoming
but there will, maybe, be the rare nights,
the drunk nights or emotional nights or just nostalgic
we will remember with just the right amount
of bitter and sweet,
sadness and joy,
that we lit a spark, the kind that is rare
for a moment a while ago.
