"Don't die on the inside,"
was the text i sent-
knowing it was a bittersweet visit
and a hard decision.
"I'm gonna get so fucked up,"
to forget- as we discussed,
because everyone knows
Bud is the friend of the broken.
Never forget, my friend,
the things that make you feel,
because numbness is a hell
of probing fingers only the mute acknowledge.
Upon discussion, you recite back
the "right thing to do" with all the logic-
an adult assurance of
knowing what's best over what's wanted.
And yet, stone words
rolled easily off of my well-advise tongue
to assure you
of the answer you dreaded.
We both know the ONE will
never come, doesn't exsist, was never determined-
but try to appreciate that your stage time
hasn't yet come in the tragedy that is love.
So when the stone words weigh you down,
don't jump in, don't drown.
Take each stone, examining it well,
and don't die on the inside.