Who You Are

It creeps through me, unlocking secret passageways and doors long closed. It trickles through rusty veins and cold eyelids. A person too long forgotten, a laughter too rarely heard.

We sit on the couch, tipping random Rieslings and catching up the passing months since summer was young and the water was warm, and we built a friendship over bare feet and other bottles still. When we part ways at the train, our shoes are cold with rain but my heart is warm with reminders. A million post-its fly through my head with things that are wrong in life, but when he asked how things were, I said good, and at some point I realized I meant it. The list of people to adore grows long; it pins me to the city when I am not looking.

There is a force in my step again, I remember it from before; there is a smile in my eyes. It climbs up my spine, a winding course, I know what this is. This is happy, and the person forgotten, was me.