Saturday, June 12, 2010


When I've offered you nothing but friendship

and you say that you don't believe in me

who I am

what I am

Then how can you ever refer to yourself as my friend, your angel?


You loved me, who I was

when I entered your life

as is

until you decided

that someone like me

just couldn't be

real


Yet here I am

still

just me

as I was

before


Friendship is a story that unfolds

not reading material

discarded

when the mood strikes


You strike out at me

thinking that I am left un noticed

I see

I hear

eyes closed in frustration

when I am doubted


Your calls of frantic need

were never left

unheard

your talent recognized

for everything that it was


At war with yourself

with myself as its

casuality

painful

left on the battlefield of your imagination


Still I lean on the wall

of trust

steadfast

realizing that time will tell

us

both

just what is fact

from fiction


I dislike

'I told you so's'

yet this is the path that we are headed down

broken strings

on which to play our song


You spout

that it was never our fate

as if I coveted our friendship

into more than it ever truly was

without inquiring what my heart truly spoke

to yours


I merely believed

when you did not

however what I believed in

was your words

your gift to me


Nothing as overt

as the others

I mean to pursue

my destiny

my truth

not yours


Your belief

or lack of

pushes me to the end of my wits

I've nothing to prove

to you

the mirror does that daily

it doesn't lie


Self loathing

doesn't suit either one of our spirits

nor does doubt

there isn't the room

in the house of souls


We walk towards the light

attempting to find our way home

where our truths

survive us


Take my hand and know my dreams

as they become reality

our prose

coming to life

the promise

fulfilled

for all to read


Names

side by side

in trust

in belief



Have a glorious week,


From my hand to yours,


Sawyer

Saint Andrews