remember me?

Do you remember when we were friends,
when we'd play games in your backyard?
You'd tell your little sister to go away.
And she would, because she was smart.
At least, that's what you said.
Do you remember when we'd do tricks?
You were always flexible, jumping,
stretching in the air off your trampoline.
I tried my best to be like you.
And you'd laugh, because I tried.
Do you remember when we were girls,
when we'd play dress-up in your basement?
You had so many dolls, so many toys.
I told myself I'd someday be like you.
Do you remember when you'd get angry
because everything wasn't right?
I'd get caught in the middle.
I didn't care. I never thought it mattered.
But you did. And she did, too.
You'd fight like cats, teeth and claws flying.
The scratches came. And they hurt me, too.
Do you remember when we were friends?
No? I guess not.
Then maybe I'll try forgetting, too.