The never talk                            
Waiting for you                              
To speak first                                  
                              
They are someone you can talk to    
When you just need someone          
Who will listen                              
Without interruption                      
Then when you are finished          
They sit there                                  

Silently pondering your woes
Then ever so quietly,
They begin to speak

Not many words
Just enough to make a point
Never engaging in useless conversation

They are always in the distance
Sitting while you talk
With other friends

They wit
Like a vulture
Waiting for prey

Only they wait
to jump to your defense
And when they do

They speak in little words
But those words are enough
To make the pain go away

While you eat lunch    
They engage in small talk
And show you their vocabulary

  This is how
My friend is, she has asked
Me not to mention her name

So, you think I am a dark evil poet eh? Well, get a load of this! What would you write about if everyone you loved, your mom, your dad, your stepmom and your wife all died before you? You wouldn’t exactly be writing about rainbows and butterflies would you?! No, you would write about death, sorrow, and excruciatingly philosophical things too. So quit being so judgmental!  

Crows, sitting, watching you die
Watching, waiting, to feast on carcass
Your carcass they feed on

Your journal is like a sanctuary
Where you can always be you
It is full of little bits
And pieces,
Of you.

No one will ever criticize you in your journal,
No one will read your journal.
Except, for those few people who you can trust
With your whole heart.
Those are the people who you
Will rember your whole life.

Your journal is full
Of odds and ends
Unfinished stories,
Unfinished tales,
Unfinished lives.
You may never finish some of them,
But that is the way a journal is supposed to be,
Full of unfinished things.
Things that my never happen.
It is you in the raw.