Unsaid

A simple ode to a fallen comrade.

What I said was,

I hate you.

What I meant was,

You’re beautiful.

Even standing there bleeding.

Bleeding in a Christ pose.

Covered in blood you were lovely.

Covered in blood

I said that I hated you.

You used to play a broken Ukulele

Just to make me laugh.

And I never told you,

But your smile took up your whole face.

I could drown in that smile.

I can recall it even now,

Now that you’re gone.

And the last words I said to you linger…

I hate you.

You drove fast,

But I always wanted to go faster.

And I’d scream it,

Faster!

But the sentiment was lost

In the raging of the song playing.

You drenched yourself in patchouli.

That smell stayed on my sheets for months.

I tried to wash you away,

But you always seemed to remain,

Like a possession that I could not exercise.

When I said that I hated you,

I meant that I love you.

My hate was rooted in that place,

A dark place,

The place where I was disposable.

But you were still beautiful.

Standing there bleeding.

And the words unsaid

Pooled on the grass.

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

A beautiful heartfelt tribute to your friend A.B. One that we can relate to in friendships that are lost but never forgotten in passing. Thank you for sharing your art.

[A. B. Hopkins]

Thank you.