(Dedicated to my best friend)
Remember when our best friends
were imaginary, they carried a
soft face, a familiar grace
and we loved them
for they loved us.
Us– a laugh, a smile of loose teeth and
sugary tongues, wiry hair
and intermittent dance steps
Us– oh, how young
oh how we did not care,
oh, how young.
Know now, that our fabricated friends
have grown to be too real,
have grown to know us too much.
They know what themes we like
what sounds we fall asleep to
what food we crave
what touch on our shivery backs make us
they touch us and suddenly we are not us.
Us– a bag of broken bones, broken glass,
shattered glass, the glass that were mirrors, blood that
stain the jagged edges where they forced our
fists to hate our faces.
but vow now
to never let horrible words,
never let tricky reflections,
and imaginary friends brought sinfully into reality,
to turn your delightful, ever divine complexity
into a terrible simplicity.