I found my first white hair the other day. White, not gray because “blondes seem to get white hairs and not gray ones.” I remember telling you that once. I immediately thought of you when I found it and I wanted to tell you so badly. But we can’t talk right now. Ironically I found the hair while I was sitting in the salon parking lot before I got it dyed. I was crashing out from the healing our distance is making me face, and I needed change. I needed to feel in control of one thing when everything else was spiraling out of my control. Another thing I wanted to tell you.
But I can’t. You’ve always made me think. You activated parts of my brain that I can’t shut off now so that white hair spiraled into wanting to tell you because I wanted to jokingly blame it on you and then tell you that I think I’m lucky to witness enough life to go white or gray. Especially when I didn’t think I’d make it past twenty-three. And how lucky I am that you were part of it. Our conversation would linger there for a moment and then progress as it does to any and everything. We’d dissect a topic as well as our thoughts on the topic and just enjoy the conversation that we can’t find elsewhere. But we can’t.
We may not be talking, but I still speak to you.
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Author:
Meagan Adelle (
Offline) - Published: August 4th, 2025 00:16
- Category: Friendship
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
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Comments4
I love the last line ( we may not be talking but I still speak to you) a beautiful line. So identifiable. Nicely written
Very relatable to many where distance has been created, so many of us still talk even they are not there, nicely expressed and written
Love it
Could be miles off here meagan
It seems like a recent break up
And old habits are hard to break
Esp when a confidant is no longer in earshot
I'm intrigued as to why you didn't think you would make it passed 23
Enjoy your style of writing
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