To My Friend

Again, my friend, a gift is broken,    
heart in shards on bloody hands.    
A glance in passing, the only token,    
to before the change of plans.    
     
Now you ache, still awake and alone,    
marred, unpaired, and purely sad.      
Now to wait until a way is shown,      
scarred and scared and surely mad.    
     
A thunderstorm’s cloud is lined with gold,    
gleaming bright for you to see.    
She will move on, and you will be bold.    
Such a sight for me to see.    
     
How time is slow until it is not,      
creeping leap, no in-between.      
Chime your woe with wails and snot,      
Seeping deep within your keen.      
     
And if your voice is sympathetic,      
and it breaks just like your heart.    
You’ll find what’s left is copasetic.    
 Real friendships only start.