"Your friend always," and "You're a good friend,"
phrases suitable for the high school year book, not expected from those who
once held my heart and called it "true love."
"Your friend always," and "You're a good friend,"
uttered from the lips of those who once made
me feel invincible, happy without barriers, content.
Words so caustic that affect
my heart
as if
it has been tossed from
the top of the Empire State Building,
careening down
hundreds of floors
until it's not but
a shadow
on the sidewalk below.
"Your friend always," and "You're a good friend,"
words unsuitable from men whom I gave
my entire self to,
words that reduce me to a mere
pat on the back pal
in the showers.
Not what I want or need to hear, not in this
part of
my solitary life
where I grasp at straws
wondering when the next
depressed state will disappear,
like my heart on the sidewalk
beneath the Empire State Building.
"Your friend always," and "You're a good friend."
Gee, thanks.
