Out Like a Lamb

Death of a Friendship

There be no ever easy in
my try to easing into this:
another best one shove away

she bite her dust she rage
and blame, accuse, she tell
me ever off (I block her) in

my rocker creak and pull
and ever four AM afraid,
a buried chest, my riled eyes

see what ask how and hear
the ever-ending wild why
Her I, my me, our never mind

there be no ever answer in
my try to easing out of that:
she no here and me, departed.

note ▼

April 1—Easing in — write a poem about easing into something (poetry month, a pair of jeans, a new job or stage in life, a swimming pool…)

I have always sought a "best" friend yet am good at losing them after some years, to death as suicide or heart attack or illness - and, this time, to anger and mental illness (whether mine or hers, it's hard to say). In late December I lost her when she turned on me with vitriol and I, in turn, walked away. Still reeling.