The Death of a Friendship

All ten years of our friendship
--of blood and sweat and tears poured in--
I never thought we'd end it
with no more than a silent, "Fin."

I don't think it's sunk in yet
that never will we talk again,
or share a bedtime secret
or text until the late a.m.

I never did expect it.
You do not build to break things down...
yet here we are: you wrecked it.
It fell apart without a sound.

... and neither of us fought this.
We threw our flags and parted ways.
I still attempt to process
that "us" will never be the same.

Some friends love more than lovers;
no sex or children, just pure love.
It's hard to find with others,
a bond that's not common enough.

That bond is now in pieces,
--its tattered remnants at your feet--
but I will not release these:
The shreds of what we used to be.

So many days behind us,
but not a single one ahead.
These years serve as reminders
that no one is to be trusted.