Writing

i can't look over the horizon 

but i know something is waiting 

in the orange and red 

that follows 

the setting sun 

sing to me.

i've been a stranger once more

to your hills and valleys, to the

gaps of sunlight between your grasping evergreens.

i've been a stranger

to the red barn

i'm split in two;

an exact replica on the outside,

my code is all the same. 

the original me;

who knows which piece,

you'll have to tear me apart to just see. 

"I think I love you."

                 ...

                 ...

Tired.

worn out.

Stuck in daydreams,

so checked out.

It's been like this for months.

and getting worse in bumps and grunts.

the summer heat, it floods my mind

17 years of a built-in best friend. But it never had to be built-in. It was just a bonus. A reason why we could go months without talking, and then share our personal trauma the next day.