Pho

We’re sitting close and I notice
Her hair smells just as I remember
She smells like high school, like algebra
That smell takes me back five years,
Back to our senior year, together.
Never knew it would be so comforting
Laughing as if we were still seventeen,
Like the last six years have yet to happen.
Some things should remain in the past,
I should have left her in those hallways
But now I’m too caught up
To put her back.