Friends

Death, it wouldn't be so unwelcome at a time such as this.
But then, that too is not to be,
as I have promised one such as she.
And to her I cannot lie.
So, alas, I will not die.

Here I sit and wish for her sweet kiss.
One thing of many that I'll miss.
And yet alone, I'm truly not,
for friends we'll be as sure as lovers not.
Somehow sometimes this thought does help,
as I ponder whether to kill myself.

At times like now it doesn't hurt.
I almost pray for times that are worse.
For in these moments, emotions lax,
my soul is empty. I'm made of wax.

I long for her touch, but there's just a memory.
Perhaps someday, with peace, that too will cease to be,
but for now I wish only for her, here,
and the joy of her being near.

I cannot sleep. I cannot eat.
She is all I feel I need.
For a short time we were engaged, last March,
and yet this June she broke my heart.

Friends it is she wants to be.
"Friends," it would be so hard for me.
So much more is what I feel.
I hope in time my heart will heal.

And yet also, I hope it won't.
For if infact her mind does change,
my love for her will seem less strange.
So I live from day to day,
and I wonder if everything must stay this way.

-Jeffrey Grimm Blake, June 10, 1998