You

Mon, 12/18/2017 - 03:21 -- UVCW42

Location

19406
United States

Greetings Friend,

I remember the times where we would sit outside,

 

salmon on my plate and vegetarian croquetas on your plate, smoke drifting

 

from your cigarette as you smiled and asked me about the future, my future,

 

Your wine bottle clinking every time you would reach over, you'd start laughing,

 

And you seemed to care. I'm writing to you now, because I can't quite get that picture

 

of caring out of my head, and I want to know just what the hell happened 

 

to you, to me? Did I do something wrong, did I offend you with reaching out

 

to you so often? Or maybe you were just pretending all along. When my father died,

 

and I had your class, a day after the funeral, and you could only look at me with your

 

sad face, your sad eyes, but your gold watch shining in the sun, you leaning away

 

from me in front of the auditorium, only to say that I should read some French

 

philosophy, because it would "help you out", an inkling or two of something wrong,

 

something off was in my head.

 

Did I read you write? Why did I bother writing so many poems to you, hoping

 

beyond hope you cared? That's the trouble of falling "in love" with an older

 

woman who hides and hides, the public face just another mask to hoard up

 

power...or maybe it's the troubles of a young dude who never really knew how to

 

react when someone seems interested, let alone how to

 

be happy when someone else  showers  compliments on my head. My friend,

 

I've tried writing something like this to you before, multiple drafts saved

 

on Gmail, but never sending them to you, out of the fear of pissing you off, and

 

not getting this right. Words are tough to come by, let alone to share with you.

 

And now, everytime I text you, or see you in person, or hear of plans you have

 

to share another lunch with me, my stomach turns, and I'd rather be back in surgery

 

than to have more false hope, like that time we shared beer in a Chili's

 

and you drove me home...

 

Maybe things won't work out between us, friend, but maybe somewhere

 

(thanks to the magic of hindsight) I'll be able to look back on this, on you, 

 

on our time together, and say to myself, "What was I so worried and anxious

 

about? This was a great moment, and I'm glad to have shared this time

 

with You."

 

Sincerely,

 

A Friend. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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