Reverie

I Miss My Childhood Friend I miss my friend from my childhood, the one who lived upstairs in my house. The one who annoyed me endlessly, the boy who teased me, made me shout, then stayed behind to comfort me. He has seen me through my highs and lows through quiet smiles and silent frowns. How I miss exchanging sorry notes when I hit him harder, fooling around. In his innocence, he forgave me still every single time I broke down. How he played badminton with me just to see me laugh, just to please. Down in all those moments I never knew what he meant to me. How badly I wanted to hold his hand, yet never dared to let him see. But I miss my childhood friend perhaps not just a friend at heart, but something more than words could name, a feeling hidden from the start. The cruelest twist of life’s own game we were torn apart before I could confess my heart. How I wanted to sit by his side while playing chain-chain in the lane. How I made small, silly excuses to walk with him again and again. Even hitting him a little harder, just to trade letters sweet and plain, written in the purest language of love, the innocent kind, without pain. How I asked the color of his outfit, just so mine could match his too, dreaming of weddings in my thoughts, floating on a cloud or two. Being on the seventh heaven, thinking what if we were more than friends? That quiet question in my heart never seemed to find its end.