Intent

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I never meant for words to make uncomfortable or sting,

or shadows to stretch where light should cling.

I traced my thoughts in lines and rhyme,

not to wound, but to soothe my mind—

to mend the ache, to find my way,

to make sense of what we may or may not say. 

I never wished for this wall to rise,

for silence to stand now where laughter once lied.

I only wrote what my imagination created,

Narratives that might be, never will be, or belated—

NEVER to hurt, not to blind

just to quiet the storm inside my mind.

If ink has built a bridge of pain,

then let this be a softer strain:

I hold our friendship close and true,

and now, without it, feel so much pain, don't know what to do—

the hollow space, the missing part,

a friendship I don’t want to lose is now instead grieving within my heart.

If you have compassion or empathy to spend, 

I only ask you’ll give those instead of leaving so easily 

and not caring about me or our friendship enough to mend.