How is she?

how are we?*

What about me? Dead.

I try to care.
I do.

Time clings desperately
hold to a past with such meaning.
Change has pushed apart
a friendship which was once so close.

Try to prolong connection
while new focuses divert our direction.
I put forth effort in such continuation
and grasp onto what is left.

You let me go so effortlessly.

I try to hate you with all of my will
my body fights back with
the tightening of my throat,
tries to sabotage me by
flooding my body with tears,
and twisting knots in my abdomen
too tight for rage to escape
my voice comes out in hushed tones
not forceful enough to show anger
I think I should hate you with all of my will
*my body won't let me