Miso Soup

Written August 18, 2011

nothing like the moment
i wished would not come
to clear me of that buzz.

ten o’ clock on an Austrian Sunday:
we are the only souls on the corner
where the amber light flashes.
there’s no traffic at this hour.

you hold your yellow bike between us
as I throw my arms around you.
this time, you expect it.

and in those seconds i can’t tell you
(and in these words i cannot tell you)
how you’ve changed my life.

one summer, my Friend,
and i’m not dying anymore.

you didn’t know what i did to myself,
but now i don’t want to;
now i don’t need to.
i have a choice.

i let go to go where you can’t see me cry,
and Hannah’s suggestion only delays me,
for the absinthe exacerbates everything.

once my head meets my pillow
and i prepare to speak some shitty Italian,
i can only bawl my fucking eyes out
because i am sad, and i will miss you,
my Friend.

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