may 8 2015

I can't shake my old feeling, lately,
that all is doomed,
And at more vulnerable moments
When my thoughts fall on him
I think on how our mutual insanity

Provided us enough common ground.
I have not seen him since
A silent exchange on stage,
A long overdue goodbye, like a kiss.
It was cordial enough. Sad and saccharine,
At least on my part. Whatever.
That's my M.O.

Not quite like that kiss
he gave me
in front of my boyfriend
And everyone we knew,

Not like how he called me "[his] girl"
yet never really made me so,
Proclaiming I could be his “great work”
before ceasing to return my calls.
It's fine.

Most days I rejoice
That I will never again fall short of his will,
That I will never again be lectured or publicly ridiculed,
That I will never be burnt by his manic rage,
Nor left anymore shivering in his shadow.

But, every now and again,
When all I can sense is doom about me-
I reach for the phone...
And stop, but wish...
Because, despite all his hot and cold,
Sometimes
I just miss my friend.