Lily and i are learning becoming friends.
We do this by keeping very far away.
We've already yelled and kicked and cursed
Our drinking throats devoid of thirst
And now that's done,
I've found the silence left to be much worse
Lily will not accept our love as dead.
She's crouched to the floor, arms wrapped about her head.
She doesn't cry or guilt or dredge
up memories or unmade beds,
Her head held high,
She leaves the house with tail between her legs.
Lily says she does not know who i am:
So cold and so sarcastic to my friends.
In my defense, I've been this way
for weeks and months before today.
She looks at my friends,
But doesn't count herself as one of them.
I have begun to see somebody else.
And sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn't help.
She's smart and sweet and kind and all,
Generally keeps me enthralled,
But when I'm down
I'm still not sure exactly who to call.