I asked you, my friend, to meet me at night

And hoped against hope that we'd be alright.

On that day I stopped watching myself fall;

Despite what you think, I remember it all.

I started to speak, but no sound came out.

I felt too weak to tell you about

What I needed to say. I'd been trying for days

To reach out for help, for the hand of a friend,

For hope that I might have a happier end.

Even in darkness, I can't meet your eyes.

We're friends, we share trust, there should be no lies.

I didn't look at you, but at the ground instead.

"I like to draw in silver; it comes out red."

Some clear liquid pain fell out of my eye.

I queried yours then; they begged of me why.

"What made you do it?" you asked with no speech,

"Who hurt you so badly it scarred you so deep?"

The grief I had caused you by so brief a discourse

Contrasted your habit of driving out discord.

The moonlight now shone on your tear-streaked face

Which had always before worn expressions of grace.

You looked at me and I looked at you;

You pulled up your sleeve and said, "I draw, too."