I was going to write a poem
to put my tears into words
crying over
the spilled milk of a friendship that seems to have
evaporated or something
but maybe
better to enjoy the ones that are.
II
spilled milk is cleanupable
the hard thing is
when you keep wondering
if it is or isn’t spilled
III
life was so simple in my school days
we always knew exactly
who was your friend and who wasn’t
kids are cruel
but at least you know where you are
now it’s all
tact and trying to be diplomatic and not wanting to seem too stalkery
and so you find yourself talking
suddenly like strangers
after you’ve shared so much
oh, oops, I guess I did end up writing it after all.
© Meirav M. 2014
work in progress 