My conscience mills away the seconds
The frail, incomprehensible notes
Of loneliness occupying my mistakes.
I am sick, undetectable, on the precipice
Of translating your meaning in chasm.
Friends do not leave fetters
Where hearts are fated to rest.
They do not peel back tears
Only to inscribe fresh ones
At the first show of togetherness.
They do not offer you piecemeal
In order to garnish something false
And festering within themselves.
No, no it is not I that you betray
But yourself and all that was ever
Worth the validation sought.
There are no labs within which we may
Reconstruct our former selves,
There is perhaps forgiveness
But even that cannot justify reunion.