Young Writers Society

Her friendship was a taste of simple sweetness, a grace that has since turned sour at love found lost,

A seedling that I cherished and watered carefully with worded affections, now drowned at a great cost,

And hours of my days were spent in the Eden we created in each other, no longer attuned to the loss that surrounded me,

She caressed those aches away with secrets and harmonies, planting her soul in mine as a peach tree.

--

In my eyes, she never needed leaves to cover her flaws, but she wore them anyway, never been told better,

And with all my might I tried to strip her to her bare fuzzy skin, her insecurities just a thin sweater,

Green was never her color, she shined best in the complexion of sunsets,

Her platonic flavors a taste I shall never hence regret.

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She tried to give me everything she was, and I fought to only give her some things, only what I thought I could,

And between the peaches and the dying sunflowers, I got lost in the friendship that was solely ours, forever good,

For she took me as I am, and tried to aid in watering my dying sunflowers, weaving stories of what I could be,

And not once did we pay attention to the leaves falling from her peach tree.

--

She never had the courage to ask, and I never had the clue to know,

My blindness to her pain is a living reminder in my mind, a sickening show,

I claimed her as the best friend I could never admit that I had,

And I will always regret my failures, a slideshow of what-ifs that render me mad.

--

If I were to ever love a woman, I would have loved her, I did and I still do,

Words phrased like marriage I wed myself to her happiness, a welcoming rescue,

But when it mattered most, I dropped from her heavens to my hell in nuclear warfare,

Ecstatic to converse soul to soul only to find soul to grave, my heart was speared with no flair, no passing care.

--

Buried six feet under with not a word uttered in phrase,

She left my mind reeling, my soul wailing, and our Eden covered in a dark haze,

And all that is left is fading memories and unread messages with cold annual tears,

Praised high on an altar, letting no one in, gated away due to overwhelming and complete fear.

--

I am ruined, spending every waking hour trying to carve her into my skin,

To replant her peach tree along with my dying sunflowers, everything failing, nothing akin,

My grief is an all-consuming loss, she knew that when she helped me move on from my dead sunflowers,

But now instead I weep constantly, none of her light found in the small hours.

--

I loved her, with everything I had, a friend I cherished forevermore,

Never needing the simple fruits her soul tree bore,

And knowing now that I can only find her as a fading memory in our Eden, her green sweater lovingly tied around her tree,

I can only hope, wish, and dream to this day and every day, that she found her place to be away and free.