you'll always be sixteen to me,
volatile & shameless, loud,
quick to condemn and hard to please.
i've seen you once or twice, since then,
your hair spiked into a mohawk,
holding some girl's hand.
and nicole says you called me a slut.
funny, how different i am, that
i don't care anymore.
i can look at the year i lost to you
without guilt, anger,
the burn of mistakes made for no reason.
sometimes, i find myself thinking of you -
wondering if you ever made up with your sister,
whether you still wish you could have your cousin's life.
and i still remember your old phone number,
surprisingly. maybe you remember mine, too.
but i wouldn't do it over - wouldn't want it back.
i'm seventeen now, three & a half years later,
and no matter how much you grow and change,
i think you'll always be sixteen to me.