any of you. Not the long friendship we
somehow broke into pieces so sharp we
couldn’t hold. Or the love we tried so
hard to mend though it splintered like
a fence we didn’t post. I’m still not
sure what we were keeping in or out.
I have not forgotten the tender place
in which we met, where everyone gets
to put down the lies they’ve been told
I don’t know where you are these days
but I burned the stories of our failure
along the way.
I hope you’ve been heard and held
since we were thrown so completely
into who we are.
The places we break don’t seem to heal
as much as wear smooth, until what we
thought was principle crumbles like a