i can claim to know you,
and you, and you.
all of you, a mirage of my past put together.
intricate. you are.
my friends.

little pieces of reality,
much of stubborness.

i do not know why, i seem to meet a lot of stubborn people.
maybe its because all of you are... boys.

and i say you are boys, for that is what my eyes see,
with the full force of my twenty years of existence. the irony.
boys.

defiant, you have always been.
i carry you, your burdens, the little pieces i have gleaned.
pocket memories of yourself that you have given to me,
little pieces i collect in a scrapbook so that one day,
when you have lost enough of yourself,
you may ask for its return,
hoping to scrap enough crumbs to put yourself back together.

i can only watch.

i am somebody,
and nobody.
i am the friend you whisper to, because you know i will not flinch.
i am not the friend you will be boisterous with,
because you know
you cannot lie to me with a straight face.
or perhaps you can.
but you know i can tell, anyway.

i am here, holding the complexities of you together,
ticking off the check boxes as i watch you, and you, and you.
head into oblivion even after i've told you not to.

and i stop.

stop telling you not to, because you cross the line staring straight at me.
daring me.

watch me, your eyes say.
and i stand at the edges of your reality. watching.
waiting.
again, and again, and again.
the deja vu is numbing, as i watch you, a different you, walk away again.

you will leave for a while.
and another you takes your place.

you come into my life with different names
different idiosyncrasies and different smiles
some of you have been loud and rude
some quiet and rude
loud and proud
proud and quiet.
all of you have tried to break me,

but i was not yours to break,
i've strung the pieces of me together
such that each blow is but a sting upon my heartstrings but nothing more.

different names you've had.
but you could all have been the same person.
i hold the pieces of all of you, in a book, on a shelf in my heart.
before eventually, being moved to a shelf in my mind.

one day you'll come knocking.
and i'll dust the cover and return you whats yours.

until then, you will live the way you chose.
and all i can do.
is watch.


---


Dedicated to B.

May you find the peace you so desperately seek.

Amen.