Friends over Time
The people we least expect, become so important.
We owe it to those we left behind,
Alive, dead, all the same,
To keep our oaths to those now.
The things we once had, which burn our minds even now,
Keep the impact for each words passed.
Between two old friends, a sentence can carry the world.
And the slightest insult a knife into a festering wound.
But we owe it to the now and the people we have,
To give them nothing but the truth and the wholeness of ourselves.
To give all or nothing, make each relationship,
Each friendship, count for the entirety of the world.
He says he still has a warm heart, but a cold exterior.
Sitting in his car, I breathed the smoke with the tension.
It had been years since we’d last talked.
I made a crack on him smoking.
I don’t remember him smiling, frowning, bitching.
I don’t remember anything from that moment.
Other than that, for just a few minutes,
I could see his face again. We were friends.
We’d been friends all along.
innocence
The crying eyes; sown shut.
The bleeding wrists; stapled.
The broken heart; mended.
The bright eyed boy; murdered.
There is something to be had.
Someone to hold you for it.
Somewhere to do it.
Sometime to be appropriate.
A reason to be found.
There is a time of the year.
Where we don’t owe anything.
The streets run with the innocent.
Cheers of the contented masses.
We forget problems, we rejoice.
Everything broken will be fixed.
Everything wrong will be right.
Every love lost will be renewed.
But the bright eyed boy will still be dead.
The people we least expect, become so important.
We owe it to those we left behind,
Alive, dead, all the same,
To keep our oaths to those now.
The things we once had, which burn our minds even now,
Keep the impact for each words passed.
Between two old friends, a sentence can carry the world.
And the slightest insult a knife into a festering wound.
But we owe it to the now and the people we have,
To give them nothing but the truth and the wholeness of ourselves.
To give all or nothing, make each relationship,
Each friendship, count for the entirety of the world.
He says he still has a warm heart, but a cold exterior.
Sitting in his car, I breathed the smoke with the tension.
It had been years since we’d last talked.
I made a crack on him smoking.
I don’t remember him smiling, frowning, bitching.
I don’t remember anything from that moment.
Other than that, for just a few minutes,
I could see his face again. We were friends.
We’d been friends all along.
innocence
The crying eyes; sown shut.
The bleeding wrists; stapled.
The broken heart; mended.
The bright eyed boy; murdered.
There is something to be had.
Someone to hold you for it.
Somewhere to do it.
Sometime to be appropriate.
A reason to be found.
There is a time of the year.
Where we don’t owe anything.
The streets run with the innocent.
Cheers of the contented masses.
We forget problems, we rejoice.
Everything broken will be fixed.
Everything wrong will be right.
Every love lost will be renewed.
But the bright eyed boy will still be dead.
