A small girl with straw-blonde hair
and little pink glasses.
I think of your energy when I’m around horses,
I wonder if you still love them.
I tell everyone you were my first friend.
Sometimes I wonder if you tell yours of me,
or if I’ve just become a hazy mirage in the depths of your mind,
of bunk bed sleepovers and pancake breakfasts.
How strange to marvel at the day it all ended,
we were never aware.
I still remember your house,
the backyard and woods we trekked through.
Our times at the creek, on warm sunny days.
I’m grateful those memories haven’t faded.
But I can’t remember your voice,
or your birthday.
I forgot how to spell your name for a while.
Somehow the universe always listens
for the souls seeking their mates.
I sent the invitation, you accepted it.
Was there recognition, I wonder.
Did you smile at my name the way I smiled at yours?
I’ve wanted to send you a message for a long time now,
but I hesitate, and I know why.
Because now, you’re a pretty face on my screen
and that scares me.
Cause it hurts more to think
you wouldn’t miss me
as much as I’ve missed you.
Biographical Note: Carly McCoy is a junior at Grand View University in Des Moines, Iowa studying Studio Arts with a minor in Communications. She loves poetry, fiction, and young adult books across multiple genres. Her writing talks about identity, grief, and the hard parts of life no one wants to discuss. She loves to intertwine her love of creative writing within her studio work. She hopes others can feel seen in her work and recognize someone understands them.