I sit soundlessly, polishing the silver of my thoughts- spot spot spots. I think endlessly of it. I check its pulse, my two fingers resting; monitoring, lightly yet calculating.
At this point, it's unlikely we will ever be friends again.
Life had taken us by the collar, up off the ground, against the wall and spat into our eyes.
There is so many dissimilar versions of the story, it no longer has us in it.
Oh, but remember when my hands found the stream of your neck and swam up. You were my first.
Oh,
Remember when we slept passed out, like starstruck ghosts on that couch bed in Portland. I got up to go the bathroom, and you grabbed my hand, your voice trailed from the pillow, "Go for me, will you?"
I thought about getting rid of those earrings you gave me. Only because I couldn't stand the sight of them parading around your absence.
Then, I began to wear them incessantly.
Secretly I hope they call to you, not like a tender tickle, but not unlike a searchlight.
Just a passing thought.
Not that I think we could find the organization to ever know one another again. Still, I wear you over my ears; Still, I wear you in the bucket of my heart.
