in the yellow of those memories, I am watching you cook tamagoyaki.
through the screen, I look at you warmly. you are such a dear friend.
your hair curls and bounces, and I like the silhouette of your face.
the friendship I didn't deserve. the tenderness of it. the effortless
laughs, the solace of knowing you. years later, even as we quietly
morph into lovers, we never forget the softness of the tamago days.
for the dearest of friends, and the dearest of lovers.