Stay Solo

I think back on how we were together,

and I think “that isn’t friendship”,
in the same way that we define all words,
like how we say “that’s not a game,”
“the examples I’ve seen don’t match this.”

I say it wasn’t friendship

in the same way that we can say Berkeley is using two different meanings for idea
"there's an equivocation happening here."

this thing that we are referring to
is different than the original definition.

I want you in my life
because you give me the same feeling in my stomach
as when I’m caught in a lie,
a bending of words,
compunction running through me like alcohol down a beer bong.

I want you in my life because
when I’ve been around you,
I look in the mirror with the same expression
as I do the morning after a night out
while my hangover breakfast cooks on the stove,
the smell of grease inducing nausea,
disgust coating itself all around me
like oil sinking into sausage sizzling,
as I get ready to brace how you’ll treat me today.

If you were meant to be in my life,
you wouldn’t talk to me only when you felt you needed to.
I wouldn’t be the bottled water next to the beer in your fridge,
gulping me down when you've had too much of the other.
And I hope that one day you go to reach for me
only to discover that there’s none left.
I hope you feel my absence
like an aspirin coated only in saliva, hard to swallow.
But I know that you’ll do nothing about the bitterness,
just wait for the pressure to dissolve,
and I know that our interactions will never be
sufficient for the definition of friendship.