They sit across from me
these steady witnesses
to the threads of my life
they are envelopes of shared memories
that spill stories
I have forgotten
like the road trip
with those boys
she kissed one
and then we ran off
in the night
and then there was that other night
the darkest one
that would be the glue
for these friendships
if we needed it
but we are stitched together
not with pain
not even with all the laughter
but with a rare and quiet love
that comes from being seen
for who we keep becoming
every time.