You may laugh as I feign formality
though, the world does not know of the trees climbed.
How vividly I can reimagine your wild-eyes,
brimming with shock as I peeked at you from above.
I always assumed you would be seated beside me.
I should have counted the trails of ants a little longer,
traced the leaves a little slower.
I should have lingered on the sound of your voice
and memorized the way your
Time was much more forgiving then.
This is how we grew up.
At first, inseparable
then, cut at a pivotal seam.
I recoiled too far
thus, never reconnected.
rips to shreds to you and me,
As a weed, you remain,
withering and present.
I will continue to try and let you go.
Keana Labra (she/her) is the Editor-in-Chief of the literary magazine, Marias at Sampaguitas. She has forthcoming work with Anti-Heroin Chic and La Scrittrice. She writes articles as the co-editor of the publication, Chopsticks Alley Pinoy. She is a regular contributor for Aristeia Anthology, Royal Rose Magazine and Rose Quartz Magazine. She is active on Twitter as @keanalabra.