a prose poem about me, fleeting friendships, and the pain of loss 

i. i'm scared of losing friendships because sometimes there are people who could have become lifelong friends, but i have no way of contacting them. i'm scared of losing friendships because sometimes it feels like everyone except me has connected somewhere else, in some place just beyond my reach. i'm scared of losing friendships because i could never learn to let go and every time someone slips through my fingers, it clings to my chest, a choking sort of pain where i can't even breath. i'm scared of losing friendships because i can't bear it when someone disappears out of my peripheral vision but they're still there, still out there somewhere but i have no chance of finding them and if i never see them again maybe someday when i'm old i'll look back and remember those people and wonder who they are now. because it will never leave my mind, my heart, a dull ache that will never go away. i'm scared of losing friendships because i get jealous, i get so bitter and i'm scared of losing friendships because i'm afraid that when i finally arrive where they were two months ago, they'll be long gone.

ii. i'm scared of losing friendships.

Wow!! Leafpool and SopranoTwo those are amazing!

This thread needs to top! Poetry must not die!

dhara’s apartment

——

first night

goes like this.

awkward smiles, falling laughter,

salmon sushi,

fairy lights.

friendship tenuous,

breaking fast

(i want to go to sleep

but the world is wide awake.

we’re not going home tonight.

glass-rimmed balcony,

belted wide,

fingerprints, glasses off,

light blurred soft.)

tel aviv spills below—

too full, too good, too sweet,

honey-houses, overflow these eyes, for

i’m a golden boy.

shine, this city, silver nights,

time will roll, today we start.

when we are best friends,

remember me, a stranger,

remember this right now.

hakol beseder,

it’s okay, it’s okay.

tudo bom,

we’re alive today.

this is how we do it.

remember this right now. 

the smell of summer rainstorms--unfinished

the sun set with aquamarine 

fade, pine trees silhoueted against 

the sky, and telephone wires, 

where the sky touched the buildings it became 

violet and emerald green like an impressionist

painting, or lake water in july, and we sat on your roof

watching as the clouds rolled in 

--

critique? thoughts? 

top please!

I'm back again with another poem!

---- 

tucked inside behind

dark shutters, yearning for the

sun, for something more; something to

reassure her, someone to acknowledge her,

it was never enough

tucked inside behind dark

shutters, yearning for the light

but with her windows closed

and blackout curtains

tucked inside, behind

dark shutters, dark

curtains, fists clenched

and jealousy in her veins

yearning for the sun

Hopefully this works... I just copy/pasted it from my document. It's based off the poem "I Hear America Singing" by Walt Whitman.

I hear America singing

But not in the way you do

I hear the darkest halls ringing

Ringing-- but you don’t have a clue.

The people there, they have the brightest smiles

The deepest dimples, the shiniest eyes

But what you can’t see are the miles and miles

Of the hurt that lies inside.

That girl, over there--

She wishes she were someone else.

She wishes her name was Phil or Jared

Instead of the feminine name she has herself.

And that man, with sleeves long and deep

Hiding the scars on his arm

Proof of the time he spends in weep

Proof that for him, the pain in his head is helped by harm.

And that person standing there

There at the end of the hall

They’re staring at the stairs

Wondering if they have the courage to fall.

These people, they have songs in their hearts

They’re just like you and me

But their melody is muffled, stopped without a start,

Dampened by today’s society.

These people-- they don’t get

to hear America singing.

All society will let

Them hear is their own sad song ringing.

I’ve spent years getting to know these few

Getting past their barriers

The walls they’ve thrown up to keep out of view

Because people are afraid they’re carriers.

People are afraid that “mental illness”

Is a catchable disease

It’s not, but it leads to a terrible stillness

Of mind, heart, and knees.

So many people are dead and dying

On the inside and the out

Because they just keep lying

And they see no other route.

So here’s what I have to say:

It’s not the only choice

To be afraid to sing, to hide away

There’s so much more we could hear from your voice!

Oh yes, I hear America singing--

But not in the way you do.

For me, there is no triumphant ringing

Only tears abounding like morning dew.

~~~

~Starseeker