Maybe I lost a friend once again.
Someone I saw as a brother, not a man.
Maybe there was a silence between us never this loud.
At least I have something to write about.
Maybe I pine again over a new foreign figure
Who seems larger than life, holy, precious, rare.
I suspect distance and tumult will again ruin it
But I can describe this at least with my bitter wit.
Maybe one just abandoned me, two weeks and the end
– Left me in terror, debating what even happened.
But I can write about it, look for some sense when I put it in a verse
And somehow, that still means something, for better or worse.
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