Missing an old friend
who I let drown on the side of the lake.
Could’a jumped in; coulda braved the cold,
probably would’a made it,
didn’t try.

Missing an old friend
who I spent on trinkets.
Could’a stopped.
Could’a turned it around.
Didn’t bother.

Missing you so much.
Wishing there was some way
to talk to you
and make it OK again
as it once was
before it left itself
got out of hand
turned the handle
sorry
sorry
and sorry
but who cares?

I talk to the edges
I call out the sides
I look into the nooks
I realize the nuances.

We’ll not talk again.