Six years ago,
We were hellbent on watching the show Dexter during almost every second of our free time.
So many late nights that transitioned in to early morning,
We rode waves of exhaustion, with chocolate cake and coffee as our vehicles, illuminated by the glow of a TV screen.
During such a chaotic, dark, and painful time in my life,
Those nights we moved between mouthfuls of cocoa-spongy-goodness at my kitchen table and laughing on my bedroom floor until dawn were my solace.
My best friend.
The innocent warmth that grew in my heart when you offered me genuine smiles and hugs in a time where I felt very little safety or happiness.
Even before you were anything more than my best friend.
We always wondered what a continuation of the original series would be like,
And we were so sure that if there ever was one, we would enjoy it together, similarly to those nights in my room all those years ago.
Well, the new series is out, and I’m five episodes in; all of which have been watched in complete solitude.
Our original binge was six years ago, but as of six days ago, it’s officially been six months since I’ve heard from you last. I’m sure you would at least smirk at the six-six-six coincidence of that.
Sometimes I close my eyes at night and try to pretend that I’m back in that bed, in that room, in that farmhouse, laying next to my best friend, both of us pretending to be asleep because we just got yelled at for laughing too loud.
That’s all.
My poems are more rants in to the void than they are art or whatever at this point. I’m sure I’ve said that before, but, again, whatever.