Death of Friendship

By Devan Petersen


We’re breathing in our hellos,

catching them by their tails

as they drift out of our mouths

like little rats pattering mindlessly,

our pink tongues drunk on nostalgia

and I’m standing here wondering

just when did this become so hard?

So we stand grasping at sentences trying to

haul them back like it can somehow change

the stagnant and fetid air that is heavy between us,

this reeks of the death of friendship

the carrion of what were once easy words

and the gentle brushes of fingertips.

I long for the sweet innocence

that lets me chant words like “forever”

as if they mean nothing and everything

without this shadow hovering

and the knowledge that there is no such thing

as eternity when it comes to people you know.

Love never lasts it, likes to curl up under beds

until it has gone putrid and the air is sweet

with the smell of its passing long since gone.