How many times will I sacrifice words and feelings
In order to preserve the corpse
Of our friendship?
The taxidermy of what we used to be
Gathers dust on the pedestal
In the hall of my memories. It’s well preserved
But maybe too much so.
Like myths that claim
That paintings are portals to the spiritual world
I see the ghosts coming back to embrace me once more,
To leave me with more than just goodbyes.
It’s hard to let go
But it’s harder to forget-
And by the time these words of mine have left their home
I will have regretted letting them loose,
Like how one always regrets
Their one-night stands.