“It’s not that deep.”

But it was everything to me.

When people enter my life,
I pray for them deeply,
pour my heart out in silent sermons
maybe too much, maybe too freely.

Love isn’t something you earn,
it’s a flame you offer without guard.
But I could tell he had been told to work for it,
like love was a prize behind a barred yard.

Who set these rules that say
you must prove your worth to be loved?
For the other person to stay?

I loved the man I saw
not the mask or the lies,
a soul cracked open,
crying out to be recognized.

I miss the depths we swam in
those endless talks, no shore in sight,
fingers laced like soul ties,
blurring where he ended and I took flight.

I miss that wordless knowing,
being seen without explanation,
two poets misunderstood,
finding refuge in our shared creation.

Maybe what I miss the most
is the friend I built in my mind,
the air we breathed together
a place only I could find.

the blend of friends.

Maybe it was only me,
carrying a story no one else knew,
but even if it lived alone in my heart,
I still miss what felt true.

Even if they moved on,
forgot the song we played,
my love doesn’t wait for validation
it’s something I carry, unafraid.

I want to be honest, open, clear,

So yes, even now, the friendship

I hold it dear.

The gift from God, their presence near,

Not disposable, always sincere.

People always leave a mark
I mean, look at me now…
still bleeding verses from the hallways of my heart,
every stanza proof that they left a part.