Confessions To A Friend

January 12, 2009
We quietly sat together
swirling coffees that were
bittersweet under grey skies.

You tried to break the silence
with pointless words
but in my apathy I
could not hear.

A man sang on the street,
his container deprived of money
and as his beautiful voice
echoed in the air I was
glad to feel someone else's pain
instead of mine.

We walked under showers,
heaven's tears reflecting the
coldness that had coloured
my heart a hue of bleakness.

But all you cared about
was yet another lover
who would one day wish
he could cut himself away
from the strings you tie him to.

And you went over the same
old memories so distorted
from age that you've fooled
yourself into thinking I was
your first best friend.

Yet if you had bothered to
ask instead of talk,
you would realize that
neither of us is really
that close to the truth.

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