No!

Terri isn’t your friend

She doesn’t want to be your friend

She doesn’t care that you rescued her

She doesn’t care that you were generous and kind for 18 months

That shit doesn’t matter to her

She doesn’t want to be your friend

She wont be your friend

She isn’t your friend

She doesn’t hate you

She doesn’t like you

She doesn’t think of you

She doesn’t care at all

You don’t matter to her

Terri isn’t your friend

Terri won’t be your friend

Terri will never be your friend

Terri was never your friend

Terri isn’t your friend

The giving hand

When you open your hand
and give them what they need
Shield and protect them
you expect your hand
to get bitten

I didnt expect
my heart
to get ripped out
and thrown away

in absentia

instead of connectedness
I just feel isolation
I stand alone
They say people come and go
it's not true
they just go
I dont know how
to forget their going
fill that absence

It doesnt really matter
how much I howl
for my pain
just another useless
toothless werewolf
in the black plain
you'd think
a lone wolf would
be better at isolation

Last night my soul
was overladen
overflowing with sorrow
I went alone to see what was left of the garden
which you watered

Bubbles

All life may be
just a dream within a dream
but some soap bubbles
are such coruscating
swimming rainbows
that when they pop
all I can see is the
aching vaccuum

Terri chiaroscuro

All I can see is images
of her laughter
of that grin
of her walk
of the odd hitch in her stride
that rolls her hips

Her blue eye glittering
from around the dangling
triangle of her pixie cut

The slightly spider flex
of her legs as she
perches on the green
leather chair, eager to
regale me with her
latest deviltry, in the
most Miela fashion

The empty rooms
are hardly visible
through this throng
of painful shades

and every shade has
its price in tears
another twist inside
of pain and anger
and stupid stupid loss

I wish I could dismiss
them,  even just let
the rage pour onto her
but I can't, I can't
I can't let go
of a thin and fragile
hope that some thread
of friendship might
still be woven back
between us

The greatest shadow
is that stupidity,
that vain hope,
worse even than the
hope of understanding
why, it keeps calling
more whorls and
delicate rays of pain