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To A Friend Who Had A Free Lunch With Me...

it's been long,
actually, i have forgotten, that place where we used to be,

i changed, i have told you i know myself,
i changed, i will not tell you that i have changed,

it will be as bitter as a detachment,
of a clover foot, divided into two pieces,

it will be still soft, but it will be more of slipping white sands
between my fingers,

i do not understand myself, so how can i ever understand you.

you sit on a table fronting me, yet, i do not see you completely
in the same manner, that i put my body here, but my mind is flying

like a kite somewhere, while my fingers pretend that i still have
a grasp about flying strings and wings and thoughts,

it's been long, and i talk to you, but i never mean each word,

actually, i do not like the color of that plate, the way the spoon and
fork are put parallel to each other,

the tea tastes like hell.

i could have told you, the tea really tastes like hell,

i have changed,
now i am dishonest.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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