Opposing parts of velcro,
Or pages stuck with glue,
Two attracting magnets,
Or laces of one shoe.
Are we to grow estranged,
Now none of this is true?
As distant as the 7 seas,
Or far apart as stars in space,
As different as the cat and bee,
Or so removed as black and white?
Looking back at years gone by,
How come we to be here now?
For I loved him as I loved myself,
Loved him as a brother,
So strongly did I feel to him,
Almost like a lover.
Was he close to me, as I felt to him,
Or was it all just in my mind?
I realise that he loved me too,
As much as I liked him,
I know now that this is true,
But then, what was the end of us?
And now, I fear, the answer's clear,
To our relationship's demise:
For the want of a length of kindness,
Did the shoe come undone,
For the want of some depth of meaning,
We must say, "we had a good run."
----
The original is below, complete with comments I wrote at the time.
-----------
Opposing parts of velcro,
Or two attracting magnets,
The laces of a single shoe,
Or pages stuck with glue.
Now none of this is true,
Are we to grow estranged?
As distant as the 7 seas,
Or far apart as stars in space,
As different as the cat and dog,
Or so far removed as black and white?
Looking back at years gone by,
How did we come to be here now?
I loved him as I loved myself,
Loved him as a brother,
So strongly did I feel to him,
Almost like a lover.
I realise that he loved me too,
But did it hurt to show it?
And now, I fear, the answer's clear,
To our relationship's demise:
For the want of a length of kindness,
Did the shoe come undone,
For the want of some depth of meaning,
We must say, "we had a good run."
------------
This is a strange poem, inasmuch as I couldn't decide if it were to be prose or not.
And so it begins in prose, and ends, pretty much, as a rhyming poem.
For some reason, I almost always find myself incapable of writing about what's closest to my heart. I suppose that's because words can never truly give over the effects of raw emotion.
The title?
Yes, the title's pretty interesting too. After hearing a song, the real name of which went something like "Why it's so difficult to play in this imaginary band of ours," I thought, "why not add a long and strange title to a poem?"
I settled for the current one, out of a small list, including:
"Sitting atop a burnt oak tree,"
"Banging pots and pans with a wooden spoon," (this is actually my favourite, as it makes me laugh)
"Fallen leaves and deadened trees"
I may actually use these. Who knows? As for the current title, "shattered realities" because the reality of friendship has been shattered.
----
There's nothing quite like losing your best friend. I haven't lost mine, but I'm too tired to push for the relationship. I've known him for 8 years, almost 9. Perhaps I should save the relationship, but not expect as much as I once did. I suppose the "institution of friendship" is dead.
The old definition is dead, long live the new definition: "someone I hang out with."
