Your head on his shoulder.
I wonder if he will rub your back,
Or if he will put his elbow to your shoulders
When you will almost certainly need it later.
I still find it maddening
That after years of imploring you
To travel abroad,
You did it within seven months
With someone new.
I’d call him a stranger,
But I’m sure he’s only strange to me.
Where has this impulse lived
For the last six years?
I hate that you hid yourself,
I hate if I made you feel you had to.
I know I’m over the line
To say such things,
But you’ve trivialized our friendship
To such an extent,
That this feels like
A playground conversation.
Perhaps I’ll not care as much
Some day far down the line
But for now,
This pain is too real,
And it clings to me
Like fire.
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