The alley

I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me for the last time. I’m sorry I couldn’t ride the bus home with you and I apologize for not being able to answer your calls. I’m sorry for breaking your trust and I’m sorry. Damn I guess I’m sorry for not being the person I promised I would be at 3am when we walked to the store chasing the snow and trying to beat the night.

I know I helped you. You haven’t reminded me of how kind I was in at least four months. I just miss needing you. Most of all I miss you needing me. I miss opening up my back door to let you in late at night. I miss the people we would become when the street lights came on and the alley became our home.

As much as I miss you and all you did for me and all the doors I broke down for you, I’ve realized something; That reality of ours is now just a memory. Its the stories I tell the two boys I sometimes face time late on Saturday nights when I can’t seem to shake our reality into a memory.

But please promise me that late on Saturday nights when you come down from your high you’ll remember our reality and wish I was still there with you in the alley thinking innocent thoughts and making plans we never did carry out. And I’ll promise that late on Saturday nights when I finally hang up the face time on the two boys, that I’ll wish I was leaned up against the fence with you playing tug a war with our only blanket. But if you don’t it’s okay because sometimes I forget to realize how sorry you must be for leaving me in the alley.

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