deal with so long again

we visit ear
held to speaker,
eyes perusing

screen. we type—
hellos, how are you,
stress giving color

to laughter God only
hears, because your
voice reminds me

how far we still
remain—and i

FMF prompt: visit. Have you ever written something with particular people in mind, but a person comes to mind after reading? Someone you know you’ve been drifting from for awhile, but still hold out hope? I started this poem with thoughts about all the friends I’ve made here I’ve wanted to me. Then, I thought about my best friend. I read this post about breakups and instantly thought of our first. How many days I ached not being able talk to this girl, who brought me out of myself. Who made it easy for me to switch from Pepsi to Coca Cola. Who made pizza rolls & chocolate a normal dinner. Who showed me deviantART (weirdly enough I looked at this again and thought maybe i’ve grown..i mean, i am drawing now. maybe that’s growing down..) where I met some people who I’m still friends with today. Where I first fell in love with writing.

Who walked tough roads with you, left, and I couldn’t goodbye. So you tried again. And things seemed fine through same up & downs, until  my grandma passed. Sorries were given, but the distance has stayed. Because I think Jesus is trying to save me more pain, and bring me healing I’ve been better at avoiding. I’ve seen this coming again for months, but I didn’t want to admit it. I’ve seen how God has taken us down completely different paths. He’s brought people into my life who’ve walked beside me from miles away, but feel close. Who’ve let me go absolutely nuts. (“be human” would be better way to describe..) And love me even in their quiet.

I know things change, but sometimes I wish something from high school stayed the same. Relationships have ended. My love for reading sputters. Writing has changed,too. I no longer write about unrequited love or dreams of being loved by boys who didn’t love me, but grief. Death. Pleas to God. And the occasional love for family/friends. And I know what you’re thinking, “Poets are deep feeling.”

We ponder the hurts, more than joys. At least from what I’ve read. It’s almost easier to remember pain than kindness. It’s easier to write them, because when kindness comes, it’s staring at a mirage you can’t make out. And you fear if this is real, it won’t last. I never thought I’d lose my best friend. Or my grandma.

Maybe because I was always treasuring every single moment with them. I wasn’t concerned with an end, only giving love.

When there is silence from loss. you’re still in the love of Jesus. Who knew all this, before I typed a word.

Who knows I don’t understand why I’m saying all this, why it hurts still, but kneed I need him.


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