something about being friends

 

hoping you would understand the relevance of me
carrying a slight dash of your tears in my eyes
for a grief given to you to yet I cried…hoping that weeping for you
adjusted that atlas weight you carried…

chaptering on some faraway wishes, I thought we were “we”
did not mean to be just a “we” as a classical number pair
imagining that all this affection would not affect what I called “you”

maybe, you style in a way that means you are “hearty” with some distance
you congruent some distance to build an appetite, for maybe, you feel words
need to be stored to be used like harvests of  autumnal spring

but I don’t think we are always reading the same page with same accents
scuffing in my tongue becomes quicker, you bend your more sylph anatomy
you know the rush of adrenalines , madnesses and clean hearted work
maybe on maybe I am just too much of a child, for me friend is like skylines, an everyday…▬

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