On friends
soul-ties, and loss.
My friend’s heart is mine.
His tears, mine to lick
His hands, mine to hold
His sulk, mine to hear
His pains, mine to bear
For if these are not, can he truly be mine?
.
Pain hunts us. It hunts me.
It calls and chases us when we despair,
Attaches itself to the next like Shinge chase the light.
It sticks to us, prods, discomforts, and signals to those who know our soul.
.
I know his soul. I’ve felt it. Tasted it. Kissed it.
.
With pain, I don’t know his…
What it despairs,
How to feed it,
When to, What to.
I am helpless to its motion,
Unable to play the other part of the dance.
I am and become prey to the cruelty of the forsaken one.
I remain alone.
