The words you speak to me are sprinkled with a heavenly scent…but it’s your thoughts that make me quiver under my skin dear friend. When you told me you would take a bullet for me…I believed you. But what I didn’t know then was that you would be the one behind the trigger.
It is neither the things my eyes have seen nor what my ears have heard that hath me in shivers; your thoughts…it is your thoughts my friend. You used my tears to wash your laundry and my sacrifices for your pleasure. In seductive motions, I watched you dance to the tune of my pain…and even as I dared walk away, I could hear the sound of your laughter from over the marbles of your charade.
For a love so deep to turn so sour…could I have been the one to fire the first shots maybe? My tongue is lustrous but many are the times I have tasted sourly flavours from it. But if my tongue were to betray the sincerity of my soul, then shall I pluck it out lest I suffer the wrath of your dark veiled thoughts? I shudder.
In retrospect, it is not I that said goodbye first. Despite your whispers, your not so subtle eyes screamed the words at me. Because you are…or was once my friend, I understood. For Christ is my witness, to the grave shall I keep your honour and dignity intact even as I watch you throw stones at me from your glass house…because this is how I have always loved you.
It is not your proud face I wish to remember from when we parted. It is the sound of laughter, the knowing looks of amusement we would throw each other from either side of the table, the subtle bickering, and most importantly, the constant I love you and I miss you’s….
Dear friend…how will you remember me?
Because this…this is my goodbye.