Conversation with a Friend: Spoken (and Unspoken)

(Hey–so yeah, this is what I always do

but never with anyone quite like you:)

I think of you everytime I say that, now.

I’m not being sensitive…

(I’m being real, but my reality is

thickly veiled, so maybe I need to

tie it to a brick

and throw it through your window?)

You would be the only thing that

would make me want to stay,

and to be honest if there’d been a way over,

I prolly would’ve shown up.

(And every time I think about that night,

I’m angry that I didn’t just walk there.)

I don’t always agree with you, but I always admire you.

I can’t meditate. I can’t medicate.

I can’t fixate, there’s nothing good enough to do that.

(Except maybe you?)

I’m so incredible, no one sees me. No one cares.

(I wish you cared.)

I’ve tried to be like you,

to look at the skyline, or a bud on a tree,

and love those things, feel joy,

but I don’t feel love.

(I don’t feel loved.)

If you remember me, I’ll live forever.

(Remember me, at least.)

I’m a fleck of dust in your window at seven AM

that you catch in the corner of your crusty eye

while waking to go back to sleep.

Pain is more real than the ephemeral

(I hurt, and yet I am a concept,

not a real thing, just a notion,

waiting to be animated, waiting to be born.)

I’m not a hopeless case, just low on hope at the moment.

(I don’t know what I want from you,

but I know that I love–)




thanks for being



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