let's play

Reformation.

Dancing, in the rainy city streets, she is
laughing at the band-aid suture mock.
Laughing at the blood, laughing at life
that can do little more than lie, and the other’s
using what they have to substantiate or repair
this which can be fixed, if people would only try.

Laugh, loud, laugh mad. She didn’t want to touch him.
She wanted to feed him, she wanted her friend.
He was never there.
He was always there.
The loss, the longing, the word’s
drip around until it seemed to be desire.

That was perspective. She had lover’s.

He wasn’t to be one. But friends, friendship,
that gift rarely found. A general mock, just look around

She thought she’d found one.