PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I've never quite understood us.

We met here, some odd shit I suppose. I blushed and patted myself on the back for garnering the attention and appreciation of such a powerful young spirit. So talented and mysterious and majestically tragic in some ways.



Though removed by some thousands of miles and a generation of time and a dichotomy that should be mystifying, I find myself constantly wondering if you're okay and what you're doing these days and how your family is and if your friends know how blessed they are.



To be able to knock on your door and get a sleepy hug.



I've been a shit here and there. Going for weeks at a time without a hello. I tell myself, "She has her life. It is most likely best without me stumbling about in it like some bewildered, drunk, one-legged ogre." And, a single string of miniscule fonts later, I shake my head at my own folly and remind myself that she-that you-chose to be my friend for a reason. A reason you don't just hand out to anyone. And I am forever grateful that this little Scrantonian decided to bring this old Californian into her roiling genius of a brain; into her nobly patched soul; into her picky but bottomless heart.



I consider our meeting one of my shining moments, and our friendship one of my most treasured borrowed possessions.



So yes, I never quite understood us; but I've never really understood ice cream either.



love,

stu