i once had a friend
we would talk philosophy and things of deep matter
it never felt depressing talking of old ways
invigorating.
i remember in between these conversations we would draw together and laugh at how horrible we both were.
you took my arm once and we went around to look at chalk art.
i looked at you for a moment and the next you were gone.
old souls intertwined.
we were perfect.
i was nervous for what could be of us.
and you are gone.
forced out of my own hand
twisted bent into a new identity one you can make out of a new location.
i never said goodbye.
i couldnt.