If I bury you in my subconscious,
What part of you would I forget?
How your shoulder shook against mine,
Wrapped up in quieted laughter,
Under rocket ships and pixelated stars.
How that wicked grin spread like wildfire
And I was the dry brush, fully engulfed.
All that witty, bright, faithful banter.
How it felt to be sought out,
To be called a friend.
There was this excitement,
This familiarity,
A curiosity.
A need.
And then -
There were blank stares,
A lack of laughter to jokes I crafted for you.
Snarky messages and soured tones.
I felt I must leak poison from my veins
Because of your insistent avoidance.
Choices made, people preferred,
And I am now alone at our table.
Questioning the word “friend.”
There is this uncertainty,
This cold distance,
A fallout.
An ache.
