PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Now we're friends

at least that's the way he feels

I still love him but he's not cutting any deals

with one another we project the image of being

at ease

I may own the car

but he holds the keys

no more fantasies of him now for me

Just thoughts of a tortured friendship that was

never meant to be

I can wear his blue jean jacket I've tried it on

he doesn't know for I put it on while he was gone

If only like his jacket

into the rest of his life I could fit

In my empty stomach

I feel despair to its very pit

Godzilla and little hitler

that's how we appear

but my size to his is not what I really fear

we have kissed and what a pleasure it was

yet the more the days pass the more the memory

becomes a fuzz

he tasted fine and ever so sweet

his addiction may be pot

but he's my addictive sweet

( written Nov 1, 1987)