Digital publication | Page 20

We used to have friends 

Hanging by our seats each day before we arrived 

Gone now, passed out in some graveyard,  

Gone with their eyes still wide open 

We were once immensely happy, the kind 

Of happiness that disappears with a simple, ominous touch of an evil hand,  

A scratch across the window of the day, now, 

We stare past the clear glass panes,  

Into the far, green, distance, where friendship is more than lost wishes 

  

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Maybe those days will come again,  

Days coated with cherry blossoms, rose-colored tints,  

Maybe we won't have an expiration date 

Wherever you are in the land after our life, I 

Hope you're still happy.  

We walk with our umbrellas alone,  

Enter the grocery store on the corner of the street,  

Pick up a bag of chips, bread swaddled in plastic,  

Read the expiration date, sad and lonely, pasted 

On top of stale carbohydrates. Tomorrow.  

After our sorrows, what do we think? Is life our own sorrow to bear? 

No, to think that is stupid. Futile. Weren't we happy, once?