Only acquaintances

Of all the numbers I could call
Not one
Do I trust with the bulk of it all

My happiness, heartache, laughter or tears
Not one
I could rest my burden on that won't spread
My failures and fears

Funny how the triumphs and praise don't make the vine
The wonderful things that would make me shine
Only the juice of the grape will be poured time and time again

No, not one of these numbers
I can honestly call friend

Reviews

[C. M. Miller]

What an abyss of emotion, a deep well of despair! Desolation of the soul. I had to open a window (and it is COLD outside!) to breathe. So yeah, this poem expertly/poetically expressed a moment in your life. I hope you have moved beyond it, however.