which was it friend?
what was the point of being my friend?
what did that mean to you, back when?
was friendship something that sounded good,
rolled off the tongue? something that reminded
you of innocent times, when u were still young?
this idea u could love another, have some real fun?
to me it was all that and plenty, but now its done.
when u walked in the room the first time we met
you positively glowed. a halo dragged behind you–
did u rip it from that tulip poplar, held its flowers
winter-long? did you pick it from the dewy grass
before worms could sing its praise in song? was it
theft, out and out, or had you borrowed that glow to
light too good to hold onto, like i was?