Ginger Ale

Washed out, agonizing to be a glass bottle instead of a can
you concern yourself with to be crumpled; I'm suffering from
having known you, and not being strong enough to save our
friendship for we crashed like members of the sea who realized
they couldn't lead sorrows- breathing but roaring as cars' oil
leaked and engines lusted for total immersion
in neglect.

I neglected you.

How can I let that go? Not hold myself responsible for whatever
tears were bled, whatever thoughts became a whisk, a crime,
a suicide. You knew my opinion and knew my strength. How I yelled
that what you were telling yourself historically were lies that wouldn't
bury. So what if no one stopped and listened?

Does that mean I can drink as much as your soul has inked
and call only you the cold one? Professing ghosts that we downed
like cocktails-
I age into night wishing there was more competence in turning
and heaving my guilt-heavy heart away, even when I know there's
no such thing as return.

I flicker past a ghost......
But I know they will still live long past memories.

*written August 27, 2012 at 8:53 pm.