I don't like you but we're friendsA Poem by ThegoodgatasbyThis is about drifting apart from the people we used to be the closest with, in my case because of my friends drug addiction.
It's been nearly a year now and here again I see your face,
in it carved a smile, genuine and true. Your eyes are darkened and your skin is pale. Rage revisits, the fire burns fresh and new, my own smile imploding, our parting in mind, I did so much to help you, I worked so hard to save you, I know since then you have been using, I can tell, I see you, I know you. I knew you. You laugh and you joke, punch my shoulder playfully, you are ignorant to my distance, I say something more now, you move close to stand by me, again you turn to humour, you are sharper than you once were, and you are knowing, a chuckle escapes my grasp- damn. Once I gave you my secrets, to my head you have the key. I curse you for your knowledge, for your power over me, the door to my mind is ajar for you,but my brain is my only weapon, I must be stronger, faster, more nimble, sarcasm my one sword and wit my waiting allie, you recognise my anger, my fight not to let you in, I cared for you, I lost sleep for you, I tried every book I knew, to me, you committed a betrayal, you did wrong, without care. Look at you. You are a woman on the decline, a mess, a painful sight. For you I feel no affection, my love you have outgrown. But still I fail to block you, to keep you at arms length. 'Coffee? '- you already know my answer, and I hate you for what you've done. You have ripped me of all logic, you know me and I know you. I couldn't say I liked you but my mind cannot erase, I am trapped inside our memories, I fail to escape your gaze You are my friend. You know me, to you I am whole.
© 2015 ThegoodgatasbyFeatured Review
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2 Reviews Added on February 15, 2015 Last Updated on February 15, 2015 AuthorThegoodgatasbyLiverpoolAboutNew writer, trying a few ideas out and finally putting pen to paper, or finger to key, feedback gladly received- if that's how this works. more..Writing
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