oh, molly-bee
We were in the living room of my first apartment. It was the last summer you came home, before you left for India.
I had just moved in and I didn’t have a couch yet, just a sad camping love seat. Instead of using it we sat on the floor. We talked about poetry and looked at old pictures. We swapped music back and forth from our laptops, suggesting bands to one another, and gushed over Chan Marshall.
It was the last time we hung out one-and-one. The last of the late nights, the confessions, the Austin road trips. A few months later you were across the world when I got married.
You are one of my biggest regrets. You deserved a much better friend. The amount of grace you extended was far more than I ever deserved.
Of all of my ghosts, I miss you the biggest.
3:50 p.m. - 2023-06-07