Friends

A poem from August 2024

Will someone be my friend?

Mine died not that long ago.

Cancer got’em around Leo season.

I’ll fawn over you, an admiration that can borderline on obsession.

You can talk and the words you speak will sound like poetry.

Linger on in me like a sunburn.

A cult with one lifelong devoted member.

Here, I lay my lips onto your feet.

I’ll give you gifts and show you my favorite things hoping one of these days you’ll ask me how I’m doing.

Slice up your apples and peel your oranges like a mother feeding their child.

You can be the sun and I the moon, shadowing behind you.

The center of my universe will always be you.

This loneliness is sinking me down to the earth with all the worms and my dead friend.

Read the books you give me, dress the way that makes you proud to have me around, dance to music that deep down I don’t even like.

I will learn to love what I tolerate.

You will tolerate me and say it’s love chokehold by friendship.

Please, be my friend.

I will sit across from you in a crowded cafe not once hoping you ask me how I’m doing.

I’m so lonely.